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41 


CINDERELLA 



























































































ILLUSTRATED WITH 


EIGHTY ONE CUTS. BY ADAMS 





* > 



JESL^JBHRLC3r ri BOb a WLSI , 

NEW-YORK 


1C. CHAPMAN. Del. 


J A. ALV.V-S ie. 









































































✓ 



















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WITH 


Cigtjtij-ntie Cngrntiittgs nn Wm\ 

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J 5 t . 

Or 

3B1T <3T• Ao AIS)AIO« 



NEW YORK.- 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
329 & 331 PEARL STREET 

FRANKLIN F QUARK 
















TZt 

Fli%2 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by 
Harper & Brothers, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the Southern District of New York. 


# 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


Page. 

Little Red Riding Hood, - .17 

Diamonds and Toads, ------ - - 21 

Blue Beard, - ----- 25 

The Sleeping Beauty^. 33 

Puss in Boots,* - 41 

Cinderella, - 48 

Riquet with the Tuft, \ - 59 

Hop-o’my-Thumb, - - - - - - - 69 

The Discreet Princess, ' - - 86 

The Children in the Wood, - - 98 

The Three Wishes, - .106 

*Prmce Cherry, V ------ - 109 

Beauty and the Beast, 4 ----- - - 125 

. *Prince Charming, ----- - 144 

Blanch and Rosalinda,! -------- 154 

♦Aurora and Amy, A,.- - - 100 

♦Prince Tity, 4 -. ----171 

Prince Fatal and Prince Fortune, t- - 197 








iv 


CONTENTS 


Page. 

?The Intellectual Prince, A ------- 209 

"Belote and Laidronnette, ^ - - - - - - 217 

'“Juliet, - 229 

“Prince Nosey, ^ - - 238 

*Florise, c > - -- -- -- -- - 247 

*Alfarout and Clariphile ; - - 253 

Peronella; ----- - « - - - 258 

'*Tlie Blue Bird,/ - . 264 

*Rosimond and Braminte, ? - - - - - - - 291 


& Those pieces marked with an asterisk have been expressly translated for this worK. 








► { 

INTRODUCTION. 


I cannot very well tell why it is, that the good old histones and 
tales, which used to be given to young people for their amusement 
and instruction, as soon as they could read, have, of late years, gone 
quite out of fashion in this country. In former days, there was a 
worthy English bookseller, one Mr. Newbery, who used to print 
thousands of nice little volumes of such stories, which, as he solemnly 
declared in print, in the books themselves, he gave away to all good 
little boys and girls, charging them only sixpence a piece for the gilt 
covers ; these of course no one could be so unreasonable as to ask 
him to furnish at his own expense. I well recollect the lively im¬ 
pression this marvellous generosity made upon my youthful ima¬ 
gination. The good man, liVed in London, near St. Paul’s church¬ 
yard, as his books informed us ; and for above half n century, he 
supplied a great part of the civilized world with excellent little edi¬ 
tions of “Jack, the Giant-Killer,” “Goody Two-Shoes,” “Tom 
Thumb,” “ Whittington and his Cat,” “ Giles Gingerbread,” and the 
“ Children in the Woods.” Excellent Mr. Newbery! Good, gener¬ 
ous, benevolent, kind old man ! How many a tender young heart 
1 * 


11 


INTRODUCTION 


hast thou moulded to habits of mercy and chanty and all gentle and 
good affections, awakening their young sympathies for oppressed 
innocence and virtue in distress, making the bright tears to roll down 
the chubby cheeks of thy customers, as they pored over the sorrows 
of the orphan babes in the woods, or kindling up their virtuous indig¬ 
nation against the treacherous, wicked uncle ? How many a prattling 
pair of sisters hast thou bound in close bonds of love throughout life, 
by mixing their tears and sobs together over the touching story of 
“ Little Red Riding Hood ?” How many a brave boy’s mounting 
spirit hast thou first waked up to feats of noblest daring in afterage, 
by filling his young fancy with the deeds of Jack, the queller of 
ogres and the overthrower of tyrants ? 

Washington, when a child, read Newbery’s books, and was not 
only a happier and better boy for them, but a braver and a greater 
man afterward. If his wise and good mother had not given him 
these excellent manuals in his childhood, he would never have cap¬ 
tured Cornwallis, nor have behaved half as gallantly as he did at 
Braddock’s defeat, nor as nobly as he did afterward at Newburgh. 
At any rate, I feel quite positive that he would not have been the first 
and greatest president of the United States, had he never read 
“ Whittington and his Cat.” By the way, I marvel much that my 
friend Mr. Paulding has not said something upon this point in his 
excellent Life cf Washington ; for nobody knows better than he does 
the effect of such good reading upon the young; and it is very clear 
that he himself could never have made the general’s life half so en¬ 
tertaining as he has done, had he not himself, in his early childhood, 
read the same delightful little stories most diligently and devoutly. 

As to the popular English literature of the present age, the best of 
it is but the enlargement and wire-drawing of these good old tales, 
telling them over again under modern names, and dressing them up 
in modern fashions. For example, I esteem Miss Edgeworth’s 
works highly; still I must confess that they are but the histories of 


1 N T R O D b C T J O N . 


iii 

Giles Gingerbread, and Goody Two-Shoes grown up and living 
among the people of our own days. 

Lord Byron, too, owes his whole popularity to the same cause and 
no other. For throughout all his poems, and his private life to- 
boot, he was little more than an imitator, and to my mind, only a 
strutting, mouthing, affected, theatrical, coxcombical imitator, of 
the noble and more original Blue Beard, that most oriental and 
ferocious of husbands, that most magnificent and mysterious of 
murderers. 

Good, wise, generous, public-spirited Mr. Francis Newbery ! Grati 
tude and honour be unto your memory. Then what a delicate, what 
an exquisite taste hadst thou! What covers were those wherein 
thou didst enclose thy stories—covers worthy of the charming con¬ 
tents, for they glittered in fairy-like magnificence of red, green, and 
yellow gold ! What choice cuts —cuts ! it is thine own word, 
honoured Newbery—what choice cuts embellished thy delicious 
pages ! How many a stammering tongue has screamed with joy at 
the sight of the heroic Jack clambering up his bean-stalk! How 
many a sparkling young eye has been dimmed with thick tears at 
the sight of the expiring “ Cock Robin or more touching still, at the 
view of the good father and mother of the two hapless children 
in the wood, breathing their last, side by side in the same bed, 
with their night-caps on ? 

Well indeed might these cuts be affecting, for they had come 
down from the remotest tradition of English infant literature. Like 
the pictures of Raphael, they had stood the criticism and formed the 
taste of many generations. They had decorated the pages to which 
the last Edward of England, “ the' royal, saintly boy,” loved to turn 
for relief from the political and religious polemics with which he 
was compelled to puzzle his infant brains. They had warmed the 
childish fancy of his contemporary, Shakspeare, filling it with hun¬ 
dreds of living, breathing, brilliant conceptions, such as in after years 


IV 


I N T R O D U C T 10 N 


burst forth as Oberon and Titania, and Puck and Ariel. These were 
none of your smootji, glossy, clear, steelplate engravings, such as 
decorate modern annuals. They were of the taste of Rembrandt and 
the old dark masters, whom picture-dealers most love. Their excel¬ 
lence was in the power of their appeal to the imagination. A mys¬ 
terious inky darkness hung over them, through which struggled forth 
lights, bearing interest and intense curiosity, into the baby-student’s 
very heart. These were cuts to gaze at for hours, to study, to in¬ 
quire about, to hang over till the whole soul was absorbed in them, 
and every faculty “ raised, delighted, rapt, inspired.” 

Peace be to thy kind spirit, gentle Newbery! Whether thou 
sleepest near the scene of thy earthly labours, in the churchyard of 
St. Paul’s cathedral, in the very heart of the great city, amidst its 
ceaseless din, and roar and smoke ; or reposest more fitly in some 
silent yew-cinctured rustic cemetery, near the swift Severn, the silver 
Trent, or the elf-haunted Avon, I know not. But wherever thou 
liest, I am well assured that— 

“ By fairy hands, thy knell was rung, 

Thy dirge by fairy voices sung; 

Whilst childhood conies, a pilgrim gay, 

To bless the turf that wraps thy clay.” 

Yes ; a turf more hallowed than that which “ wraps thy clay,” has 
never been trodden by “ Fancy’s feet.” 

Yet, in the last generation, American boys and girls (the fathers 
and mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers, of the present race) 
were not wholly dependant upon Mr. Newbery of St. Paul’s church¬ 
yard, London, though they knew him well and loved him much. 
The great Benjamin Franklin, when a printer in Philadelphia, did 
not disdain to reprint divers of Newbery’s books, adorned with cuts 
in the likeness of his, though it must be confessed somewhat in¬ 
ferior Yet, rude as they were, they were probably the first things in 



INTRODUCTION. 


v 


the way of pictures, that West and Copley ever beheld, and so in¬ 
stilled into those future painters the rudiments of that art by which they 
afterward became so eminent themselves, and conferred such honour 
on their native country. In somewhat later times, there were in New 
York the worthy Hugh Gaine, at the sign of the Bible and Crown,' 
in Pearl street, and the patriotic Samuel Loudon, and the genuine 
unadulterated New Yorker, Evert Duyckinck, besides others in 
Boston and Philadelphia, who trod in the steps of Newbery, and sup¬ 
plied the infant mind with its first and sweetest literary food. But, 
alas ! these are all gone. The munificent Newbery, and the pious 
and loyal Hugh Gaine, and the patriotic Samuel Loudon, are de¬ 
parted. Banks now abound, and brokers swarm, where Loudon erst 
printed, and many millions’ worth of silks and woollens are every 
year sold where Gaine vended his big bibles and his little story¬ 
books. They are all gone; the glittering covers and their more 
brilliant contents, the tales of wonder and enchantment, the father’s 
best reward for early merit, the good grandmother’s most prized 
presents. They are gone—the cheap delight of childhood, the un¬ 
bought grace of boyhood, the dearest, freshest, most unfading recol¬ 
lections of maturer life. They are gone—and in their stead have 
succeeded a swarm of geological catechisms, entomological primers, 
and tales of political economy—dismal trash, all of them ; something 
halfway between stupid story-books and bad school-books, being so 
ingeniously written as to be unfit for any useful purpose in school, 
and too dull for any entertainment out of it. 

One reason urged for thus suffering these once-loved relics of the 
wisdom of our grandmothers’ nurseries to fall into such oblivion, is 
the sage opinion that they are not true, and that children ought not to 
be allowed to read any thing but truth. I deny the whole argument, 
every step of it, from the impudent premises to the false and most 
illogical conclusion. Not true, forsooth. That reverend traditionary 
’ore which hath been handed down from one generation of uncor- 


Vi 


INTRODUCTION. 


rupted children to' another, from the oldest antiquity of Saxon and 
Norman literature, untrue ! That which the young Shakspeare, and 
Spenser, and Milton believed in with a warm poetic faith; that to 
which orators, critics, moralists, and politicians have referred and 
attested—all falsehood and fiction! Can any body believe it ? 

Some dull people can be convinced only by authority ; in that way 
will I deal with these objectors. 

Is the story of Cinderella false ? Behold, how no less a man than 
George Canning, for some time the prime minister of Great Britain, 
whose word was every year taken in parliament for the expenditure 
of millions of pounds sterling—behold how he doth avouch to the 
truth and accuracy of the ancient history of Cinderella. I quote his 
verses at length, not only to help my argument and to stop the 
mouth of gainsayers, but, moreover, because they form an admirable 
commentary or paraphrase of the tale itself, which will be found in 
the following pages. 

“So she, sad victim of domestic spite, 

Fair Cinderella past the wintry nignt, 

In the lone chimney’s darksome nook immured, 

Her form disfigured and her charms obscured; 

Sudden her godmother appears in sight, 

Lifts the charmed rod and chants the mystic rite, 

The chanted rite the maid attentive hears, 

And feels new ear-rmgs deck her listening ears; 

While midst her towering tresses aptly set, 

Shines bright with quivering glance the smart aigrette; 

Brocaded silks the splendid dress complete, 

And the glass slipper grasps her fairy feet. 

Six bob-tailed mice transport her to the ball, 
k And liveried lizards wait upon her call.”* 

So sung the former premier of England, the chosen friend of Pitt 


Loves of the Triangles. 





INTRODUCTION. 


vii 

worshipped by the tories for his politics, and honoured by the liberals 
for his talents ; and would he, think you, have spoken thus confidently 
of a story without truth 1 

To the same effect testifieth the late Reverend George Crabbe, a 
clergyman of the Church of England, much esteemed as a preacher; 
and, moreover, a most exact and conscientious historian, who has reg¬ 
ularly recorded in rhyme the lives and characters of all the paupers, 
vagabonds, thieves, and felons, of his parish. It was as impossible for 
such a man, as for one of Gulliver’s horses to speak the thing that is 
not. This testimony, I also here insert at length; not only for the 
sake of my argument, but, moreover, because it supplies an apparent 
deficiency in the present collection, by giving an authentic and cor¬ 
rect account of Jack the Giant-Killer, whose history has been 
omitted in these pages, in consequence of the intention of the pub¬ 
lisher to print hereafter a most splendid edition of it alone, illustrated 
with engravings, by the best artists, after the designs of the late Ben¬ 
jamin West. Thus then, after having first spoken of “Thumb the 
Great,” speaketh the Rev. George Crabbe, LL.D., rector of Trow¬ 
bridge, touching Jack the Giant-Killer :— 

“ There too was he, by wizard power upheld, 

Jack, by whose arm the giant-breed was qpelled, 

His shoes of swiftness on his feet he placed, 

.His coat of darkness on his loins he braced; 

His sword of sharpness in his hand he took, 

And ofF the heads of-doughty giants stroke: 

Their glaring eyes beheld no mortal near, 

No sound of feet alarmed the drowsy ear. 

No English blood, their pagan sense could sirifell, 

But heads, dropped, headlong, wondering why they fell.” 


For the same reason that I have quoted these two great English 
authorities, I shall now appeal to an American author, who though 
he wrote on this occasion under the name of my old and much- 


Vlll 


INTRODUCTION 


esteemed friend, John Brown, is well known to be a gentleman of the 
city of New York, whose bare word is daily taken by hundreds of 
readers for the most strange and unexpected occurrences at home 
and abroad. I, therefore, see no good reason why his assertion is 
not equally entitled to credit oil the present occasion. 

“ So erst great Jack, with love of glory fired, 

To climb the bean-vine’s flexile stem aspired; 

* From leaf to leaf the supple urchin springs, 

Finds a safe stair among the verdant rings ; 

Soars till his mother’s eyes behold no more, 

Nor stays, till at the giant’s brazen door; 

Then by the careful housewife hidden well, 

Eludes the monster’s sight and cheats his smell; 

Till stealing sleep at last, with soft surprise, 

Lets down the lofty lids that arch his eyes. 

Then by his couch the youthful hero stands, 

The bright blade gleaming in his upraised hand 
Falls the keen steel, the jointed bones divide, 

From the black arteries spouts the vital tide; 

Rolls thundering on the floor the sever’d head, 

And listening nations hold their breath in dread.” 

Thus again, we have from a sound and accurate authority, at once, 
a beautiful paraphrase of the undoubted tradition of Jack the Giant- 
Killer, and a most conclusive attestation to its truth. 

What further evidence can reasonable people require, than three 
poets—a prime minister, an editor, and a clergyman. Yes; these 
traditions are true every word of them. Not perhaps, strictly and 
literally throughout, but yet implicitly and essentially. If the events 
did not happen in the very manner and order herein set forth, yet do 
they all involve the certain truth of that which has happened before, 
and will happen again. Who is there that has lived thirty years in 
the world, but has seen with his own eyes, Beauty and the Beast 
coupled together, “paired not matched;” but has witnessed the 
sudden elevation of some Cinderella over envious rivals, with fairer 


INTRODUCTION. 


ix 


earthly prospects than hers ; but can attest to the success of some 
industrious Whittington, or else can bear testimony to the vanity of 
human desires, as recorded in the story of the Three Wishes 1 The 
poet spake like a man of common sense, who called this, 

“ Truth severe, m fairy fictions dressed.” 

It is nonsense to talk of geology or political economy, in the present 
state of those sciences, being half so true as the essential moral truth 
of these tales. Nor, indeed, does history itself, as commonly taught 
the young in dry chronological tables and meager catalogues of musty 
names, contain one quarter so much of living reality. Truth, indeed ! 
If they are not coarse common matter-of-fact truth, they are something 
much better, because they are more true. For how much more true 
is the truth of fiction than fictitious truth ! Ariosto called the glitter¬ 
ing, sparkling creations of his own genius, “ Magnanimous De¬ 
ceits and such are these—unreal, perhaps, and yet most true 

“ Stories of good old times, ye legends old— 

Legends no more by infant hands unrolled! 

Magnanimous deceits! where favoured youth 
Pound sweet repose from flat, prosaic truth; 

For you I raise my firm unaltered voice, 

Fancy my guide and Fairy-land my choice.” 

In addition to the general objection raised by ignorant people, as 
to the truth of these stories, there is another notion prevalent on this 
side of the Atlantic. Many worthy people think that this kind of 
literature is suited only to the old countries, and of course that our 
American children have nothing to do with such knowledge. In fact, 
to such an extent is this strange prejudice carried among us, that no 
longer ago than last month, I heard a well-educated American lady 
assure her Irish chambermaid, who nad expressed the fear, common 
m her native country, of talking too freely of “ the good people,” 


X 


INTRODUCTION. 


lest they might overhear and punish the insult, that “ there were no 
fairies at all in this country.” She might*as well have assured her 
attendant at once, that there were no “ good people” here, in the 
literal sense of the phrase, as well as in its mystic Irish meaning of 
elfs and fairies. It is quite provoking to be obliged to argue against 
such a self-evident mistake. If the elfs and fairies live on the other 
side the Atlantic, what, in the name of common sense, is there to 
prevent them paying some occasional visits here ? Can they not, 
according to the best authorities, flit unseen from Old England to the 
farthest shores of India, as Titania did, who though a regular English 
fairy, used to gossip at night “ in the spiced Indian air ?” Does not 
King Oberon expressly say— 

“ We the globe can compass soon, 

Swifter than the wandering moon 

Does not Robin Goodfellow boast of being able to “ put a girdle round 
the earth in forty minutes ?” And what is still more in point, as to 
crossing the Atlantic, was not Ariel, sent by his master, from the 
coast of Africa, to fetch dew at midnight from the Bermudas ? But 
to come to the point at once; in the very last exhibition of the 
American Academy, there was a portrait of Puck or Robin Good- 
fellow himself, painted by a young American artist, a Mr. Chapman, 
who, it is quite clear, could never have painted the mischief-loving 
sprite as he did, had he not actually seen him at his tricks in some 
Yankee dairy. Moreover, have we not the exquisite poem of the Cul¬ 
prit Fay, wherein the elfin court, assembled, near the Crow-Nest, 
in the Highlands of the Hudson, is described so minutely and ac¬ 
curately, that there should be no more doubting about the matter—a* 
least among candid and reasonable folks. 

“ Tis the hour of fairy ban and spell : 

The wood-tick has kept the minutes well; 


INTRODUCTION. 


xi 


He has counted them all with clicking stroke, 

Deep in the heart of the mountain oak, 

And he has awakened the sentry elve 
That sleeps with him in the haunted tree 
To bid him ring the hour of twelve, 

*And ©all the fays to their revelry; 

Twelve small strokes on his tinkling bell— 

’Twas made of the white snail’s pearly shell— 

‘ Midnight comes, and all is well! 

. Goblins! hither wing your way! 

’Tis the dawn of the fairy day.’ 

They come from beds of lichen green, 

They creep from the mullein’s velvet screen: 

Some on the backs of beetles fly 

Prom the silver tops of moon-touched trees, 

Where they swingin their cobweb hammocks high, 
And rock about in the evening breeze; 

Some from the hum’-birds downy nest— 

They had driven him out by elfin power, 

And, pillowed on plumes of his rainbow breast, 
Had slumbered there till the charmed hour; 

Some had lain in the scoop of the rock, 

With glittering isinglass inlaid; 

And some had opened the four-o’clock, 

And stole within its quivering shade. 

And now they throng the moonlight glade, 

Above—below—on every side, 

Their little mimick forms arrayed 
In the tricky pomp of fairy pride! 

* * ' * ■* * 

The throne was reared upon the grass 
Of the spice-wood and the sassafras; 

On pillars of mottled tortoise-sheli 
Hung the burnished canopy— 

And o’er them gorgeous curtains fell 
Of the tulip’s crimson drapery. 

The monarch sat on his judgment-seat, 

On his brow the^rown imperial shone, 

The prisoner fay was at his feet, 

And his peers were ranged around the throne.’ 


xii 


INTRODUCTION. 


Besides all this, supposing that we had no fairies on this side the 
Atlantic, what is that to the purpose? How does it prove that our 
young folks ought not to be initiated into their literature and history 
as well as with that of Greece and Rome, France and Italy ? But 
if I go on at this rate, quoting my authorities, and refuting the 
objections of all sorts of foolish people, a regular essay upon fairy 
and traditionary literature will be produced instead of the simple pref¬ 
ace, which is all that the publishers will give me room for, at 
present. I am sorry for it on our readers’ account; for, in addition to 
the great merit which the original part of it could not fail to derive 
from my perfect knowledge and intense love of the subject, the essay 
would of necessity be filled, stuffed, crammed, like roguish Jack 
Horner’s orthodox Christmas pie, with a dainty variety of the most 
delicious morsels, with sweets of every flavour, and all of them ex¬ 
quisite. It would be candied and sugared over with rich and rare 
quotations of every size and colour, until the whole would sparkle 
with the brightest, gayest fancies of antique wit and modern fancy. 
It would glitter like Prince Arthur’s crest, as described in the Fairy 
Queen, that lofty crest, which— 

“ Discoloured diversely 

With sprinkled pearl and gold full richly dressed, 

Did shake and seemed to dance for jollity.” 

In fact it must be written, but not now. It shall be reserved for the 
introductory volume to the Harpers’ proposed splendid cabinet edition 
of all the works of true fiction that have ever been written. At present 
the Messrs. Harper want a preface for a little book and nothing 
more. They are men of business and must be obeyed. 

Our meritorious publishers, perceiving the lamentable neglect into 
which this choice part of our ancient literature has fallen amongst us, 
determined, with a noble and lofty ambition, worthy of the immortal 
Newbery himself, to supply the deficiency At a great expense, for 


INTRODUCTION. 


xiii 

in addition to the cost of foreign correspondence, one of the partners 
of the house has himself travelled over the greatest part of Europe 
with no other object—they collected the most approved and earliest 
editions of the ancient English story-books, and a large selection of 
those best attested and most generally credited in France, Holland, 
and Germany. All of the English stories were by their order care¬ 
fully collated with the original editions, printed by Caxton and 
Wynkin de Worde, and preserved in the British Museum, or the 
Bodleian Library at Oxford. Those in foreign tongues were care¬ 
fully translated by learned professors of the respective languages, and 
the whole diligently revised, arranged, and printed under the super- 
intendance of an editor deeply read in all such good learning. Let 
not our readers imagine, that by this last sentence, I mean indirectly 
to compliment my own labour and learning. For, as our experienced 
publishers understand the value of a proper division of labour quite as 
well as if they had studied the primer of Political Economy in their 
childhood, instead of Tom Thumb, the task of editing this great and 
good work was distributed among those most suited for the several 
duties it demanded. Thus having confined my own labours to the 
preface, (the fruit, as all competent judges will perceive, of much 
profound thought and study,) I am entitled to bear witness with 
authority to the great merit of my fellow-workmen. I must frankly 
own my own most decided preference for that part of the collection 
originally English, over that which comes from the continent of 
Europe, and now appears in translation. Nevertheless, these latter 
stories have their merit, and add a rich variety to the collection, so 
that every taste may be suited. The FrenclTstories are certainly want¬ 
ing in those deep touches of the pathetic, and those sudden and 
Napoleon-like transitions, in a single step, from the laughable to the 
sublime, such as characterize those ancient English narratives, 
whose plastic influence formed the minds of Shakspeare, Milton, 
and Jeremy Taylor Yet many of them are of exceeding merit in their 


INTRODUCTION. 


xiv 

way—gay, pleasant, and agreeable. Some of them, too, convey a re¬ 
fined morality of no vulgar order. Such, for instance, is that of 
Peronella; which it is well to mention here, we owe to no less an 
author than the excellent Fenelon. Think of that, ye materialists in 
education—ye unbelievers in hoary tradition—ye maligners of time- 
honoured fairy lore ; think what an attestation is this to the truth and 
value of our volume, that for one of its choicest ornaments we should 
be indebted to Fenelon, an archbishop of the church, and a prince 
of the empire'; and what is much better, the model of every Christian 
virtue, one of the best, the purest, the gentlest, the wisest of men. 

The book has been printed with great care and taste, and adorned 
with exquisite wood-cuts. The workmanship of these is claimed by 
Mr. Adams of this city, as the engraver of all, and the designer of 
many of them. But that scrupulous matter-of-fact accuracy, for? 
which the reader must have seen I am very remarkable, obliges me! 
-to confess that this is a mere imposition. Indeed, any connoisseur 
may perceive at once, as my friend Michael PafF did at the first! 
glance, that these are the work of no clumsy mortal fingers, but un-j 
doubtedly the product of elfish art. As far as I can judge of such 
things, they seem to be the handiwork of the industrious Puck or 
Robin Goodfellow himself, who, I think, must have drawn all the; 
figures. Mr. Adams, who is a capital artist in his way, I presume, 
did the mechanical part, though that too may have been retouched at 
night by fairy hands. Indeed, if this were not exactly so, I do not 
see how the publishers, meritorious as they are otherwise, could : 
have been pardonable in substituting these new inventions, (“ delicate 
devices” though they be,) in place of the ancient and authentic cuts to 
the several tales respectively appertaining from a time beyond wdiich 
the memory of man runneth not. Even as it is, as soon as the pub¬ 
lishers have cleared their first hundred thousand dollars by the pres-i 
ent publication, they are bound, for the gratification of old-fashioned 
people like myself, to publish a precise fac-simile edition of the whole 





INTRODUCTION. 


XV 


set, in exact conformity with the oldest printed copies, cuts and all, 
like the fine London reprint of the first folio edition of Shakspeare, 
cut for cut, page for page, and letter for letter. 

Having in the course of the preceding remarks more than once 
pledged my reputation for the truth and morality of these narratives, 
it behooves me before closing this introduction, to ease my conscience 
on one single point. By so doing, I trust to show my candour and 
impartiality, and thus prove my opinions to be worthy of full faith and 
credit in every other respect. 

It is on the subject of Puss in Boots that I am constrained to 
speak. Whose feelings may be hurt, I care not, for I must speak 
plainly. Even in my childish years the monstrous and unblush'ng 
falsehoods told by this managing, fawning Grimalkin, always shocked 
my moral sensibilities. Since, in maturer life, I have studied the art 
of criticism, as laid down by Aristotle, Bossu, Blair, and the several 
quarterly and monthly reviewers at home and abroad, I have become 
equally convinced that the reward bestowed upon Puss at the end, 
by making him “ become a great lord, and never running after rats 
and mice any more, except for amusement,” is against all poetical 
justice, and contrary to good morals. Let me be distinctly under¬ 
stood in this matter. It is not that I have any weak dislike to cats 
in general. Shakspeare calls them a harmless, necessary race. 
They are more than that. I love and esteem them. Dogs are faith¬ 
ful, intelligent, affectionate, but they are slaves—kind loving slaves 
indeed—but not the equal friends of man. The cat acknowledges no 
master ; she enters into equal and honourable friendship with a proud 
and jealous spirit of independence. I esteem the cat in private life, for 
her sagacity, her cleanliness, her maternal tenderness, and domestic 
virtues. Nor is the historical and literary cat without dignity. Whit¬ 
tington’s cat was a paragon of virtuous enterprise, like her master. 
The White Cat was a model of the gentler virtues. Mahomet com¬ 
posed his Koran to the music of his furred favourite’s purring. Dr. 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION. 


Johnson would not suffer his venerable Hodge to be slaughtered, but t 
fed him in old age, as faithful chroniclers report, with Colchester* 
oysters. St. Jerome, Robinson Crusoe, and David Hume, all de-;j 
lighted in cats. It is not, therefore, to cats, or to any thing that can : 
add lustre to their name, that I object; but to the especial, the; 
abominable, the dangerous example of this individual male cat, called 1 
Puss in Boots. The tale could not be omitted, because it was aj 
genuine relic of antiquity; but I have no doubt, in my own mind, 
that there must originally have been a second part to this narrative, 
in which the mendacious mouser was soundly punished for his bad 
habits, in spite of the success that at first seemed to attend him. If 1 
this be in existence, I trust that the Messrs. Harper will procure it, ; 
and add it to their next edition. For this purpose I advise them to 
have diligent search made in the libraries of the English and Scotch 
universities, the British Museum, the Record Office, and the col¬ 
lection of manuscripts at Lambeth. 

Protesting, meanwhile, most solemnly, as in conscience bound to ■ 
do, against the evil conduct and bad example of Puss in Boots, I • 
commend the rest of the volume to all good boys and girls, and kind ; 
fathers and mothers, to the young, who desire to be happy, and to the 1 
old, who have not yet forgotten that they were once young; promising ) 
to each and all of them, that these antique fables and fairy toys, light 
and fantastic as the worldly wise man may deem them, will, if read 
and studied in the simple faith and pure spirit in which they were , 
written, be found, 

“ To witness more than Fancy’s images, 

And grow to something of great constancy.” 


As I make it a rule never to write anonymously, I sign my name 
*.1 full, as heretofore, to my literary publications. 


JOHN SMITH. 



- { <xm 








LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD, 

FrNCE upon a time, a country girl lived in a 
village, who was the sweetest little crea¬ 
ture that ever was seen; her mother nat¬ 
urally loved her with excessive fondness, 
and her grandmother doated on her still more. The 
good woman had made for her a pretty little red- 
coloured hood, which so much became the little girl, 
that every one called her Little Red Riding Hood. 
One day, her mother having made some cheesecakes 
said to her : “ Go, my child, and see how your grand 

8 H 













18 


LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. 


mother does, for I hear she is ill; carry her some of these 
cakes, and a little pot of butter.” Little Red Riding Hood 
straight set out with a basket filled with the cakes and the pot 
of butter, for her grandmother’s house, which was in a village a 
little way off the town that her mother lived in. As she was; 
crossing a wood, which lay in her road, she met a large wolf, 
which had a great mind to eat her up, but dared not, for fear' 
of some woodcutters, who were at work near them in the forest j 
Yet he spoke to her, and asked her whither she was going.3 
The little girl, who did not know the danger of talking to a 
wolf, replied: “ I am going to see my grandmamma, and carry j 
these cakes and a pot of butter.”—“Does she live far otf?” 
said the wolf. “ Oh, yes !” answered Little Red Riding Hood | 
“ beyond the mill you see yonder, at the first house in the vill 
lage.”—“ Well,” said the wolf, “I will take this way, and you; 
take that, and see which will be there the soonest.” 

The wolf set out full speed, running as fast as he could, and| 
inking the nearest way, while the little girl took the longest;] 
and as she went along began to gather nuts, run after butterflies,] 
and make nosegays of such flowers as she found within her] 
reach." The wolf got to the dwelling of the grandmother first,! 
and knocked at the door. “ Who is there ?” said some voice in] 
the house. “ It is your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood,’j 
said the wolf, speaking like the little girl as well as he couldj 
“ I have brought you some cheesecakes, and a little pot of butterl 
that mamma has sent you.” The good old woman, who was fill 
in bed, called out, “ Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up.” 




LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. 


19 


The wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door went open : the wolf 
then jumped upon the poor old grandmother, and ate her up in a 
moment, for it was three days since he had tasted any food. 
The wolf then shut the door, and laid himself down in the bed, 
and waited for Little Red Riding Hood, who very soon after 
reached the house. 

Tap! tap! “Who is there?” cried he. She was at first a 
little afraid at hearing the gruff voice of the wolf, but she thought 
that perhaps her grandmother had got a cold, so she answered : 
“ It is your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood: mamma has 
sent you some cheesecakes, and a little pot of butter.” The 
wolf cried out in a softer voice, “Pull the bobbin, and the latch 
will go up.” Little Red Riding Hood pulled the bobbin, and the 
door went open. When she came into the room, die wolf hid 
himself under the bedclothes, and said to her, trying all he could 
to speak in a feeble voice : “ Put the basket on the stool, my 
dear, and take off your clothes, and come into bed.” Little Red 
Riding Hood, who always used to do what she was told, straight 
undressed herself, and stepped into bed; but she thought it 
strange to see how her grandmother looked in her night-clothes, 
so she said to her : “ Dear me, grandmamma, what great arms you 
have got!”—“ They are so much the better to hug you, my child,” 
replied the wolf. “ But, grandmamma,” said the little girl, “ what 
great ears you have got!”—“ They are so much the better to hear 
you, my child,” replied the wolf. “ But then, grandmamma, what 
great eyes you have got,” said the little girl. “ They are so 
much the better to see you, my child,” replied the wolf. “ And, 


20 


LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. 


grandmamma, what great teeth you have got!’ said the little 
girl, who now began to be rather afraid. ‘ They are to eat 
you up,’ said the wolf; and saying these words the wicked 
creature fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her up in 
a moment. 








IAMONDS AND TOAD “ 

here was once upon a time a widow who had 
two daughters. The eldest was so extremely 
like her, both in temper and person, that who¬ 
ever saw the one saw the other also; they 
were both so very proud and disagreeable that 
nobody could live with them. The youngest, who was the exact 
picture of her father, in good nature and sweetness of manner, 
was also the most beautiful creature ever seen. As it is natu¬ 
ral to love those who resemble us, the mother doted upon the 
eldest, and no less hated the youngest. She made hor eat in 

31 

L JF 












22 


DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 


the kitchen, and work all the day with the servants. Among other 
things, the poor child was obliged to go twice a day to draw 
water at a fountain more than a mile and a half distant from the 
house, and bring home a large pitcher filled with it, as well as 
she could. One day, when she was at the fountain, a poor 
woman came up to her, and asked her to let her drink. 

“ That I will, Goody, most readily,” said the sweet-tempered 
creature ; and washing out the pitcher, she filled it at the clearest 
part of the fountain, and held it to the old woman’s mouth that she 
might drink the more easily. The old woman having drunk, said to 
her : “ Since you are so pretty, so kind, and so obliging, my dear, 
I will bestow on you a gift(for it was a fairy in disguise who 
. had asked her to drink, just to see how far the little girl’s good 
nature would go.) “ I give you,”, continued she, “ that whenever 
you speak there shall come out of your mouth either a rose or a 
diamond.” When the sweet girl got home, her mother began tc 
scold her for staying so long at the fountain. “ I ask your par¬ 
don, mamma,” said she, “ for not being at home soonerand as 
she pronounced these words, there fell from her lips two roses, 
two pearls, and two large diamonds. 

(fc “ What do I see !”• cried the mother, quite astonished'. “ As sure 
as any thing she drops diamonds and pearls from her mouth in 
speaking ! My child, how happens this ?” (This was the first 
time she had ever called her “ My child.”) The poor girl told her 
mother all that had befallen her at the fountain, dropping pearls 
and diamonds from her mouth all the time she was speaking 
“ Upon my word,” said her mother, “ this is very lucky, truly : 


DIAMONDS AND TOAD.S. 


23 


I will send my darling thither directly. Fanny ! Fanny ! look ! 
do you see what falls from the mouth of your sister when she 
speaks ? Should you not like to have the same gift bestowed on 
you? Well, you have only to go to the fountain, and when a 
pogr woman asks you to let her drink, to grant her request in the 
most civil manner.”—“ Vastly pretty, truly, it would be to see me 
go and draw water at the fountain ! Not I, indeed,” replied the 
proud creature. “ But I insist on your going, and at this very 
moment, too,” answered her mother. The pert hussy accordingly 
set out, taking with her the best silver tankard in the house, and 
grumbling all the way as she went. She had no sooner reached 
the fountain, than a lady, most magnificently dressed, came out of 
a wood just by, and asked her to let her drink. (This was the 
very fairy who had bestowed the rich gift on the your.gest sister, 
and had now taken the dress and manners of a princess, to see 
how far the insolent airs of the haughty creature would go.) 

“ Am I come here,” said the illbred minx, “ to draw water for 
you ? O yes, the best silver tankard in the house was brought 
here on purpose for your ladyship, I suppose ! However, you 
may drink out of it if you have a fancy.”—“ You are not very 
obliging,” replied the fairy, without putting herself in a passion 
“ but since you have behaved with so little civility, I give you 
for a gift, that at every word you speak there shall come out of 
your mouth either a toad or a viper.” v 

As soon as her mother perceived her coming home, she called 
out: “Well, daughter?”—“Well, mother,” answered the pert 
hussy. And as she spoke, two toads, and two vipers dropped 


24 


DIAMONDS AND TOADS. 


from-her mouth upon the ground. * “ Oh, mercy,” cried the mo. 
ther, “ what do I see ? It is the jade thy sister who is the cause 
of all this ! But she shall pay for it, I warrant her,” and instantly 
went to look for her that she might beat her. The poor innocent 
ran away as fast as she could, and reached a neighbouring forest. 
The king’s son who had been hunting, happened to meet her, 
and observing how beautiful she was, asked her what she was 
doing all alone in the forest, and why she cried ? “ Alas !” said 

she, sobbing as if her heart vrould break, “my mother, sir, has 
turned me out of doors.” The king’s son, seeing pearls and 
diamonds fall from her mouth at every word she spoke, desired 
her to tell him the reason of such a wonder. The good girl 
accordingly related to him all that had befallen her at the fountain. 
The prince was so charmed with her beauty and innocence, that 
he asked her to become his wife ; and as the gift she possessed 
was worth more than the largest marriage portion, he conducted 
her to the palace of the king his father, and married her immedi¬ 
ately. As for her sister, she grew even perter than before, and 
behaved in all respects so very ill, that her own mother was 
obliged to turn her out of doors ; and the miserable creature, 
after wandering a great way, and vainly trying to prevail upon 
some one to give her food and shelter, went into a wood and there 
died of grief and hunger, unlamented by any one. 




BLUE BEARD. 

here was, some time ago, a gentleman who was 
very rich; he had fine town and country 
houses; his dishes and plates were all of gold 
or silver ; his rooms were hung with damask ; 
his chairs and sofas were cohered with the 
his carriages were all gilt with gold in a grand 
style. But it happened that this gentleman' had a blue beard, 
which made him so very frightful and ugly, that none of the 
ladies, in the parts where he lived, would venture to go into his 
company. Now, there was a certain lady of rank, who lived very 
2 * 






















26 


BLUE BEARD. 


near him, and had two daughters, both of them of very great 
beauty. Blue Beard asked her to bestow one of them upon him 
for a wife; and left it to herself to choose which of the two it 
should be. But both the young ladies again and agaiit said they 
would never marry Blue Beard; yet, to be as civil as they could, 
each of them said, the only reason why she would not have him 
was, because she was loath to hinder her sister from the match 
which would be such a good one for her. Still, the truth of the 
matter was, they could neither of them bear the thoughts of 
having a husband with a blue beard; and besides, they had heard 
of his having been married to several wives before, and nobody 
could tell what had ever become of any of them. As Blue Beara 
wished very much to gain their favour, he asked the lady and 
her daughters, and some ladies who were on a visit at their house, 
to go with him to one of his country seats, where they spent a 
whole week, during which they passed all their time in nothing 
but parties for hunting and fishing, music, dancing and feasts. 
No one even thought of going to bed, and the nights were passed 
m merry-makings of all kinds. In short, the time rolled on in 
so much pleasure, that the youngest of the two sisters began to 
think that the beard which she had been so much afraid of, was 
not so very blue, and that the gentleman who owned it was vastly, 
civil and pleasing. Soon after their return home, she told her 
mother that she had no longer any dislike to accept of Blue ' 
Beard for her husband; and in a very short time they were 
married 

About a month after the marriage had taken place, Blue Beard 


BLUE BEARD. 


27 


told his wife that he should be forced to leave her for a few 
weeks, as he had some affairs to attend to in the country. He 
desired her to be sure to indulge herself in every kind of pleasure ; 
to invite as many of her friends as she liked ; and to treat them 
with all sorts of dainties, that her time might pass pleasantly till 
he came back again. “ Here,” said he, “ are the keys of the two 
large wardrobes. This is the key of the great box that contains 
the best plate, which we use for company ; this belongs to my 
strong box, where I keep my money ; and this belongs to the cas¬ 
ket, in which are all my jewels. Here also is a master-key to 
all the rooms in the house ; but this small key belongs to the 
closet at the end of the long gallery on the ground floor. I give 
you leave,” said he, “ to open, or to do what you like with all the 
rest, except this closet; this, my dear, you must not enter, nor 
even put the key into the lock, for all the world. If you do not 
obey me in this one thing, you must expect the most dreadful of 
punishments.” She promised to obey his orders in the most faith¬ 
ful manner; and Blue Beard, after kissing her tenderly, stepped 
into his coach, and drove away. 

When Blue Beard was gone, the friends of his wife did not 
wait to be asked, so eager were they to see all the riches and 
fine things she had gained by marriage ; for they had none of them 
gone to the wedding, on account of their dislike to the blue beard 
of the bridegroom. As soon as ever they came to the house, 
they ran about from room to room, from closet to closet, and then 
from wardrobe to wardrobe, looking into each with wonder and 
delight, and said, that every fresh one they came to, was richer 


BLUE BEARD. 


28 

and finer than what they had seen the moment before. At last, 
they came to the drawing-rooms, where their surprise was made 
still greater by the costly grandeur of the hangings, the sofas, the 
chairs, carpets, tables, sideboards, and looking-glasses; the frames 
of these'last were silver-gilt, most richly adorned, and in the 
glasses they saw themselves from head to foot. In short, nothing 
could exceed the richness of what they saw; and they all did 
not fail to admire and envy the good fortune of their friend. But 
all this time, the bride herself was far from thinking about the 
fine speeches they made to her, for she was eager to see what 
was in the closet her husband had told her not to open. So great, 
indeed, was her desire to do this, that, without once thinking how 
rude it would be'to leave her guests, she slipped away down a 
private staircase that led to this forbidden closet, and in such a 
hurry, that she was two or three times in danger of falling down 
stairs and breaking her neck. 

When she reached the door of the closet, she stopped for a few 
moments to think of the order her husband had given her ; and how 
he had told her that he would not fail to keep his word and pun¬ 
ish her very severely, if she did not obey him, But she was so 
very curious to know what was inside, that she made up her mind 
to venture in spite of every thing. She then, with a trembling 
hand, put the key into the lock, and the door straight flew open. 
fAs the window shutters were closed, she at first could see 
nothing; but in a short time she saw that the floor was covered 
with clotted blood, on which the bodies of several dead women 
were lying, 


BLUE BEARD. 


29 


These were all the. wives whom Blue Beard had married, and 
killed one after another. At this sight she was ready to sink with 
fear ; and the key of the closet door, which she held in her hand, 
fell on the floor. When she had a little got the better of her 
fright, she took it up, locked the door, and made haste back to her 
own room, that she might have a little time to get into a humour 
to amuse her company; but this she could not do, so great was 
her fright at what she had seen. As she found that the key of 
the closet had got stained with blood in falling on the floor, she 
wiped it two or three times over to clean it; yet still the blood 
kept on it the same as before : she next washed it; but the blood 
did not move at all: she then scoured it with brickdust, and 
after with sand; but in spite of all she could do, the blood was 
still there ; for the key was a fairy who was Blue Beard’s friend; 
so that as fast as she got off the blood on one side, it came agam 
on the other. Early in the same evening, Blue Beard came 
home, saying, that before he had gone far on his journey he was 
met by a horseman, who was coming to tell him that his affair 
m the country was settled without his being present; upon which, 
his wife said every thing she could think of, to make him believe 
she was in a transport of joy at his sudden return. 

The next morning he asked her for the keys : she gave them 
to him; but as she could not help showing her fright, Blue 
Beard easily guessed what had been the matter. “ How is it,” 
said he, “ that the key of the closet upon the ground floor is not 
here ?”■—“ Is.it not ?” said the wife ; “ then I must have left it on 
my dressing-table.”—“ Be sure,you give it me by-and-by,” replied 


30 


BLUE BEARD 


Blue Beard. After going a good many times backwards and 
forwards, as if slie was looking for the key, she was at last 
forced to give it to Blue Beard. He looked hard at it, and then 
said : “ How came this blood upon the key V ’—“ I am sure 1 do 
not know,” replied the poor lady, at the same time turning as 
white as a sheet. “You do not know ?” said Blue Beard, sternly: 

‘ but I know well enough. You have been in the closet on the 
ground floor * Yery well, madam: since you are so mighty 
fond of this closet, you shall be sure to take your place among 
the ladies you saw there ” 

His wife, who was almost dead with fear, now fell upon her 
knees, asked his pardon a thousand times for her fault, and 
begged him tb forgive her; looking all the time so very mourn¬ 
ful and lovely, that she would have melted any heart that was 
not harder than a rock. But Blue Beard only said : “ No, 
no, madam ; you shall die this very minute !”—“ Alas !” said 
the poor trembling creature, “ if I must die, give me, at least a 
little time to say my prayers ”—“ I give you,” replied the cruel 
Blue Beard, “ half a quarter of an hour : not a moment longer.” 
When Blue Beard had left her to herself, she called her sister; 
and after telling her, as well as she could for sobbing, that she' 
had but half a quarter of an hour to live : “ Prithee,” said 
she, “ sister Anne,” (this was her sister’s name,) “ run up to the 
top of the tower, and see if my brothers are not m sight; for 
they said they would visit me to-day; and if you see them, 
make a sign for them to gallop on as fast as they can.” Her 
sister straight did as she was desired; and the poor trembling 


BLUE BEARD. 


31 


lady every minute cried out to her “ Anne ! sister Anne ! do 
you see any one coming ?” Her sister said, “ I see nothing but 
the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which looks green ” 
In the meanwhile, Blue Beard, with a great cimeter in his 
hand, bawled as loud as he could to his wife: “ Come down at 
once, or I will fetch you.”—“ One moment longer, I beseech you,” 
replied she, and again called softly to her sister: “ Sister Anne, 
do you see any one coming ?” To which she answered, “I see 
nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which 
looks green.” Blue Beard now again bawled out: “ Come down, 
I say, this very moment, or I shall come and fetch you.”—“ I am 
coming ; indeed, I will come in one minute,” sobbed his wretched 
wife. Then she once more cried out: “ Anne ! sister Anne ! do 
you see any one coming ?”—“ I see,” said her sister, “ a cloud of 
dust a little to the left.”—“ Do you think it is my brothers ?” said 
the wife. “ Alas ! no, dear sister,” replied she, “ it is only a flock oi 
sheep.”—“ Will you come down, madam ?” said Blue Beard, in 

: i ' • 

me greatest rage. “ Only one single momentmore,” said she. And 
then she called out for the last time, “ Sister Anne! sister Anne ? 
do you see no one coming ?”—“ I see,” replied her sister, “ two 
men on horseback coming ; but they are still a great w'ay off.”— 
“ Thank God,” cried she, “ it is my brothers ; beckon them to 
make haste.” Blue Beard now cried out so loud for her to come 
down, that his voice shook the whole house. The poor lady, 
with her hair loose, and all in tears, now came down and fell on 
her knees, begging him to spare her life ; but he stopped her 
saying : “ All this is of no use, for you shall die and then seizing 


32 


BLUE BEARD. 


her oy the hair, raised his cimeter to strike off her head. The 
poor woman now begged a single moment to say one prayer. 
“ No, no,” said Blue Beard, “ I will give you no more time. You 
have had too much already.” And again raising his arm—just 
at this instant a loud knocking was heard at the gates, which 
made Blue Beard wait for a moment to see who it was. The 
gates now flew open, and two officers, dressed in their uniform, 
c.ame in, and, with their swords m their hands, ran straight to 
Blue Beard, who, seeing they were his wife’s brothers, tried to. 
escape from their presence ; but they pursued and seized him 
before he had gone twenty steps, and plunging their swords into 
his body, he fell down dead at their feet. 

The poor wife, who was almost as dead as her husband, was 
not able at first to rise and embrace her brothers ; but she soon 
came to herself; and, as Blue Beard had no heirs, she found her¬ 
self the owner of his great riches. She gave a part of his vast 
fortune as a marriage dowry to her sister Anne, who soon after 
became the wife of a young gentleman who had long loved her. 
Some of the money she laid out in buying captain’s commissions 
for her two brothers ; and the rest she gave to a worthy gentle¬ 
man whom she married shortly after, and whose kind treatment 
soon mad^ J~er forget Blue Beard’s cruelty 






THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 


here was once upon a time a king and queen, 
who had been married many years ; they began to 
be very unhappy because they had neither a son 
nor slaughter. Tt is true they had riches, en¬ 
joyed excellent health, had the, means of possess¬ 
ing all the luxuries of life, but as they had not a child, they were 
constantly discontented. The king and queen did not, however, 
repine in vain ; for at last they were favoured with a daughter 
The christening of the infant princess was to be magnificent 



33 


























34 


THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 


As the king and queen possessed immense riches, all that wealth 
could provide was to be exhibited on this occasion. 

There were seven fairies in that country, but no others were 
known to live there. All the fairies that could be found were 
invited to be present at the approaching festivity. The object 
of this invitation was, that these magical ladies might be spon¬ 
sors to the child; and that each of them might pronounce a 
blessing upon the infant. They accordingly attended. When 
the ceremony was over, all the company returned to the royal 
palace, where a superb entertainment was prepared. Each of the 
fairies had a golden plate set at table ; and every article they were 
to use was of extreme value. Just as the company were about to 
sit down at table, an old fairy .came into the room, supposed to 
have been long dead. When she entered the room, all present 
looked at her with astonishment; and she was told that no one 
knew she was in these countries, or she w r ould have been invited 
as well as the other fairies. The king ordered a seat to be pla¬ 
ced for her, but he could not furnish her with a golden plate, 
which had been procured for each of the seven fairies. When 
the old fairy perceived that her plate was not so costly as those 
which had been placed for the seven fairies, she chose to imagine 
that the king did not treat her with sufficient respect, and she 
uttered to herself some menaces of resentment. It happened 
that a young fairy, who sat near this envious old creature, heard 
what she had said, and dreaded the revenge which she knew 
was about to be practised. The young fairy, however, was anx¬ 
ious to mitigate whatever calamity might be intended by the 


THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 


35 


elder one, and she, therefore, left the table, and hid herself be¬ 
hind a window curtain. The fairies soon began to bestow the 
blessings on the child. The first said that her beauty should 
surpass that of any human being. The second, that her wit 
should be unrivalled throughout the world. The third, in every 
action and gesture she should exhibit perfect grace. The fourth, 
that she should dance with excellence. The fifth, that her sing¬ 
ing should transcend all melody. The sixth, that she should 
perform with the utmost skill on every instrument of music. The 
old fairy now came to speak; envy and revenge were apparent 
as she uttered her malediction :—“ The gift I bestow on the 
princess, is, that she shall hurt her hand with a spindle, and her 
life shall immediately cease.” This cruel sentence made all the 
company shudder. But while they were thus lamenting, the young 
fairy came from behind the curtain, and, in a kind voice, gave them 
some comfort: “ Do not, 0 king and queen, be in so much grief for 
your daughter; for, although I cannot dissolve the sentence 
which a fairy older than myself has pronounced, yet I can pre¬ 
vent her intention. Although the princess’s life must cease 
whenever she shall wound herself with a spindle, yet it shall not 
cease for ever. She shall only fall into a deep sleep, which 
must last a hundred years ; but at the expiration of that time, 
she shall be awakened by a young prince.” The king, therefore, 
commanded it to be made known, that any person who should 
use a spindle, or even have one, should be punished with death. 
Not^a spindle was to be seen throughout these dominions ; for 
the people having heard of the old fairy’s cruel sentence, were 


36 


THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 


as anxious to obey the king’s decree, as he had been to issue it 
About sixteen years after this time, the princess was amusing 
herself by wandering from room to room through the extensive 
palace of the king, her father. At last, she found her way to a 
small chamber at the top of a tower, in which a very old wo¬ 
man, who had never heard of the king’s decree, sat at work with 
a spindle. The princess was very anxious to know what this 
could be, and how it was used, and what for. “ What are you 
doing, Goody ?”—“ I am spinning, my pretty young lady,” said 
the old woman, who did not know that she was talking to the 
princess. “ Dear me,” said the princess, “ how I should like to 
do such pretty work; pray, let me try.” She took the spindle f 
into her hand, but as soon as she had done so, being lively and 
giddy, she ran the point of it into her hand, and fell down in- 
stantly, as if dead. When the old woman saw that the princess 
lay insensible, she was dreadfully alarmed, called out for help, 
and a number of people ran up to her. They threw cold water 
into the princess’s face, and used every thing else which they 
thought likely to revive her; but it was of no use, she lav per¬ 
fectly unconscious. The circumstance reached the ears of the 
king, who lost no time in hastening home, and immediately went 
to the chamber in which the princess lay. He remembered the 
prediction of the old fairy, and knowing that he could not 
oppose that which had been thus pronounced by the fairy, he 
made up his mind to bear it with all the patience he could com¬ 
mand. He ordered the servants to carry his daughter into a cham ' 
ber that was in the palace, and lay her on a bed of rich velvet. Ji 



THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 


37 


When the princess was lying on this bed, her appearance 
was so exquisitely lovely, that she might have been regarded as 
an angel. The sleep in which she lay, had not at all impaired 
her beauty. Her eyes, indeed, which had lately sparkled with 
fire, or languished with tenderness, were hidden. She breathed 
softly, sufficiently to show r that her faculties were only suspended, 
and not destroyed. The king ordered that no one should dis¬ 
turb her, he knew that every effort would be unavailing, and he 
submitted with as much resignation as he could command. The 
kind fairy who had saved the prince’s life, soon heard of the ac 
cident. “ Perhaps,” said she, “ when the princess awakes, she 
may be alarmed to find herself alone in this palace.” She imme¬ 
diately touched all the persons in the palace, except the king and 
queen, with her wand, and instantly the maids of honour, govern¬ 
esses, waiting women, lords and gentlemen of the chamber, stew¬ 
ards, cooks, scullions, guards, pages, and footmen, were thrown 
into a sleep as profound as that of the princess. She touched also 
with her wand the horses in the stable, the grooms, the dogs in 
the stable-yard, and even the princess’s favourite lapdog, which 
was lying beside her on the bed. Every creature thus fell fast 
asleep. Nothing could be more curious than to behold such a 
scene, for some of the domestics were employed at the time that 
this sudden sleep was imposed upon them. The king and queen 
now kissed their daughter, and left the palace. Orders were then 
given that whoever should dare to approach the palace should 
suffer death. But the fairy instantly caused a number of trees 
of all sorts and sizes to spring up entirely round the palace. 


38 THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 

Nothing could be seen but the spires of the palace, which just 
showed their heads over the thick wood which the trees formed. 
In progress of time the king and queen died. During the long 
interval which the princess had to sleep, no one ventured to go 
near the palace. For not only the king’s decree was sufficient 
to dissuade the people, and the wood around was too thick to 
admit of any passage to the palace, but it was very generally 
believed that the palace was now inhabited by fairies. At the 
end of a hundred years, the son of a king, but not of the same 
family as the Sleeping Beauty, happened to pass hear the palace 
when he was one day hunting. He asked the neighbouring 
people who was the owner of this wood, and the building which 
he saw was within it. They told him the different tales which 
they had heard of it. Some of them said it was an old castle 
that was haunted by ghosts. Whilst he was considering all the 
reports he had heard, an old man came up to him and said : “ May 
it please your royal highness, I was told more than fifty years : 
ago by my father, that my grandfather had mentioned to him, 1 
that within this wood there is a palace, in which a princess of 
very great beauty lies in a profound sleep ; that the sleep was 
to continue upon her a hundred years, at the expiration of 
which time she was to be awakened by a king’s son, who was 
to become her husband.” The prince began to think that if the 
man’s account had any truth in it, that he himself might be the / 
very prince who was to awaken her. As soon as he reached the 
wood, the trees, the bushes, and the brambles, moved aside and j 
permitted him to pass. He advanced towards the palace, and! 

. 

* a 


THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 


39 


thought it very strange that no human being should appear in 
any part of this place; but was more astonished to find, that the 
trees, bushes, and brambles, had again closed, and that no one 
had been able to follow him to the palace. The prince’s courage, 
however, was not easily daunted; and having come thus far, he 
determined to explore this mysterious edifice. At length he 
reached the building, the portal of which opened when he came 
to it. He entered a spacious hall; all the men and creatures 
the fairy had laid asleep were stretched on the ground, and 
seemed as if dead. He saw, however, when he looked a little 
more patiently, that they were only asleep. The prince pro¬ 
ceeded to an inner hall of great magnificence; several persons 
here also were asleep ; an elegant flight of stairs was opposite; 
the prince proceeded through a number of other rooms; at last 
he came to a room of extreme elegance ; the hangings of this 
chamber were of the most exquisite velvet. In this room was a 
most superb bed; nothing could exceed the magnificence of this 
bedstead and its draperies. 

. lie approached with caution and respect, but nothing could 
equal his delight and wonder when he there beheld the Sleeping 
;Beauty. He saw she was about sixteen years of age, but her 
countenance exceeded every thing his eyes had seen, or even his 
Imagination could have conceived of a human being. He ven¬ 
tured, however, to approach more nearly; he perceived the 
[gentle breathings by which existence was indicated. He spoke, 
but no answer was returned; at length he gently laid hold of 
one of the lovely hands which lay extended. The princess 


40 


THE SLEEPING BEAUT! 


immediately awoke, for the charm was dissolved. She looked 
at the prince with tenderness. “ Is it you, my prince ?” said she ; 
“ how long I have been expecting you.” The prince, enraptured 
by these words, was still more astonished when he beheld her 
eyes beaming intelligence and love. Her voice was melodious. 
He could not withhold the assurances of his veneration ana of 
his affection ; he could not deny himself the gratification of 
telling this paragon of loveliness how dear she was to him. 
These assurances seemed to give her pleasure. The prince took 
her hand, and led her to the table. As soon as they were seated 
the musicians, who had also enjoyed a long repose, began to 
play. Whilst they were at dinner the kind fairy arrived. She 
told the prince and princess the true account of all that had 
happened, and touched with her magical wand all ancient-look¬ 
ing objects, and they instantly assumed a modern appearance. 
The furniture of the rooms was suddenly metamorphosed into that 
which was then the prevailing fashion. The dresses of the prin¬ 
cess and all her attendants were immediately transformed into 
the most elegant habiliments of the present time. Within a few 
days the grand ceremonial of their marriage took place. Never 
had before been seen such true splendour, such magnificence in 
arrangement, and such costliness of grandeur. This happy couple 
were married ; they lived happily together to a good old age, 
Their lives were employed in doing good. They reared a family 
in the practice of every virtue; and they died beloved and 
lamented. 





PUSS IN BO O Tfe 


here was a miller who had three sons, and whe* 
he died he divided what he possessed among 
them in the following manner: he gave his 
mill to the eldest, his ass to the second, and his 
cat to the youngest. Each of the brothers, 
accordingly, took what belonged to him, without the help of an 
attorney, who would soon have brought their little fortune to 
(nothing in law expenses. The poor young fellow who had 
jnothing but the cat, complained that he was hardly used: “My 

[brothers,” said he, “ by joining their stocks together, may do 

41 



3 


















42 


PUSS IN BOOTS 


well in the world, but for me, when I have eaten my cat, and 
made a fur cap of his skin, I may soon die of hunger!” The 
cat, who all this time sat listening just inside the door of a cup 
board, now ventured to come out and address him as follows: 
“Do not thus afflict yourself* my good master: you have only 
to give me a bag, and get a pair of boots made for me, so that 1 
may scamper through the dirt and the brambles, and you shall 
see that you are not so ill provided for as you imagine.” Though 
the cat’s master did not much depend upon these promises, yet. 
as he had often observed the cunning tricks puss used to catch 
the rats and mice, such as hanging by the hind legs, and hiding 
in the meal to make believe that he was dead, he did not entirely 
despair of his being of some use to him in his unhappy condition. 

When the cat had obtained what he asked for, he gayly began 
to equip himself: he drew on his boots ; and putting the bag 
about his neck, he took hold of the strings with his fore paws, 
and bidding his master take courage, immediately sallied forth, 
The first attempt puss made was to go into a warren, in whicli 
there was a great number of rabbits. He put some bran and 
some parsley into his bag, and then stretching himself out al 
full length as if he were dead, he waited for some young rabbits, 
who as yet knew nothing of the cunning tricks of the world, tc 
come and get into the bag, the better to feast upon the dainties 
he had put into it. Scarcely had he lain down before he suc¬ 
ceeded as well as could be wished. 

A giddy young rabbit crept into the bag, and the cat immedi¬ 
ately drew the strings, and killed him without mercy. Puss < 


PIJSS IN BOOTS. 


•13 


proud of his prey, hastened directly to the palace, where he 
asked to speak to the king. On being shown into the apartment 
of his majesty, he made a low bow, and said: “ I have brought 
you, sire, this rabbit from the warren of my lord, the marquis of 
Carabas, who commanded me to present it to your majesty with 
the assurance of his respect.” (This was the title the cat 
thought proper to bestow upon his master.) “ Tell my lord 
marquis of Carabas,” replied the king, “that I accept of his 
present with pleasure, and that I am greatly obliged to him.” 
Soon after, the cat laid himself down in the same manner in 
a field of corn, and had as much good fortune as before ; for two 
fine partridges got into his bag, which he immediately killed 
and carried to the palace: the king received them as he had 
; done the rabbit, and ordered his servants to give the messenger 
something to drink. In this manner he continued to carrv 
presents of game to the king from my lord marquis of Carabas, 
once at least in every week. 

One day, the cat having heard that the king intended to take a 
ride that morning by the river’s side with his daughter, who was 
the most beautiful princess in the world, he said to his master * 
“ If you will but follow my advice, your fortune is made. Take 
off your clothes, and bathe yourself in the river, just in the place 
T shall show you, and leave the rest to me.” The marquis of 
Carabas did exactly as he was desired, without being able to 
guess at what J,he cat intended. While he was bathing the king 
passed by, and puss directly called out as loud as he could bawl 
“ Help ! help ’ my lord marquis of Carabas is in danger of being 




44 


PUSS IN BOO'i S. 


drowned !” The king hearing the cries, put his head out at the 
window of his carriage to see what was the matter : when, per 
ceiving the very cat who had brought him so many presents, he 
;rdered his attendants to go directly to the assistance of my lord 
marquis of Carabas. While they were employed in taking the 
marquis out of the river, the cat ran to the king’s carriage, and 
lold his majesty, that while his master was bathing, some thieves 
had run off with his clothes as they lay by the river’s side : the 
cunning cat all the time having hid them under a large stone. 
The king hearing this, commanded the officers of his wardrobe 
to fetch one of the handsomest suits it contained, and present it 
to my lord marquis of Carabas, at the same time loading him 
with a thousand attentions. As the fine clothes they brought him 
made him look like a gentleman, and set off his person, which 
was very comely, to the greatest advantage, the king’s daughter 
was mightily taken with his appearance ; and the marquis of 
Carabas had no sooner cast upon her two or three respectful 
glances, than she became violently in love with him. 

The king insisted on his getting into the carriage, and taking 
a ride with them.. The cat, enchanted to see how well his 
scheme was likely to succeed, ran before to a meadow that was 
reaping, and said to the reapers : “ Good people, if you do not 
tell the king, who will soon pass this way, that the meadow you 
are reaping belongs to my lord marquis of Carabas, you shall be 
chopped as small as mmce-meat.” The king did not fail to ask 
the reapers, to whom the meadow belonged : “ To my lord mar¬ 
quis of Carabas,” said they all at once; for the. threats of the 

I 


PUSS IN BOOTS 


45 


cat had terribly frightened them. “Yon have here a very fine 
piece of land, my lord marquis,” said the king. “ Truly, sire,” 
replied he, “ it does not fail to bring me every year a plentiful 
harvest.” The cat, who still went on before, now came to a 
field where some other labourers were making sheaves of the 
corn they had reaped, to whom he said, as before : “ Good people, 
if you do not tell the king who will presently pass this way, that 
the corn you have reaped in this field belongs to my lord marquis 
of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as mince-meat.” The 
king accordingly passed a moment after, and inquired to whom 
the corn he saw belonged: “To my lord marquis of Carabas,” 
answered they very glibly; upon which the king again compli¬ 
mented the marquis upon his noble possessions. The cat still 
continued to go before, and gave the same charge to all the 
people he met with ; so that the king was greatly astonished at 
the splendid fortune of my lord marquis of Carabas. Puss at 
length arrived at a stately castle, which belonged to an Ogre, the 
richest ever known; for all the lands the king had passed through 
and admired were his. The cat took care to learn every par 
ticular about the Ogre, and what he could do, and then asked to 
speak with him, saying, as he entered the room in which he was, 
that he could not pass so near his castle without doing himself 
the honour to inquire after his health. The Ogre received him 
as civilly as an Ogre could do, and desired him to be seated. 

‘ I have been informed,” said the cat, “ that you have the gift of 
changing yourself to all sorts of animals ; into a lion or an ele- 
I phant for example.”—“ It is very true,” replied the Ogre some- 





PUSS IN BOOTS. 


what sternly , “ and to convince you I will directly take the lorm 
of a lion.” The cat was so much terrified at finding himself so 
near to a lion, that he sprang from him, and climbed to the roof 
of the house ; but not without much difficulty, as his boots were 
not very fit to walk upon the tiles. 

Some minutes after, the cat perceiving that the Ogre had 
quitted the form of a lion, ventured to come down from the tiles, 
and owned that he had been a good deal frightened. “ I have 
been further informed,” continued the cat, “ but I know not how 
to believe it, that you have the power of taking the form of the 
smallest animals also ; for example, of changing yourself to a rat 
or a mouse: I confess I should think this impossible.”—“ Im¬ 
possible ! you shall see;” and at the same instant he changed 
himself into a mouse, and began to frisk about the room. The 
cat no sooner cast his eyes upon the Ogre in this form, than he 
sprang upon him and devoured him in an instant. In thq mean¬ 
time, the king, admiring as he came near it, the magnificent 
castle of the Ogre, ordered his attendants to drive up to the gates, 
as he wished to take a nearer view of it. The cat, hearing the 
noise of the carriage on the drawbridge, immediately came out, 
saying: “ Your majesty is welcome to the castle of my lord 
marquis of Carabas.”—“ And is this splendid castle yours also, 
my lord marquis of Carabas ? I never saw any thing more stately 
than the building, or more beautiful than the park and pleasure 
grounds around it; no doubt, the castle is no less magnificent 
within than without; pray, my lord marquis, indulge me with a 
sight of it.” * 



PUSS IN BOOTS. 


47 


The marquis gave his hand to the young princess as she 
alighted, and followed the king who went before; they entered 
a spacious hall, where they found a splendid collation which the 
Ogre had prepared for some friends he had that day expected to 
visit him ; but who, hearing that the king^ with the princess and 
a great gentleman of the court, was within, had not dared to 
enter. The king was so much charmed with the amiable quali¬ 
ties and noble fortune of the marquis of Carabas, and the young 
princess too had fallen so violently in love with him, that when 
the king had partaken of the collation, and drunk a few glasses 
of wine, he said to the marquis : “ It will be your own fault, my 
lord marquis of Carabas, if you do not soon become my son-in- 
law.” The marquis received the intelligence with a thousand 
respectful acknowledgements, accepted the honour conferred 
upon him, and married the princess that very day. The cat be¬ 
came a great lord, and never after ran after rats and mice hut for 
his amusement. 






CINDERELLA, 


OR, THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER. 



here was once a very rich gentleman who lost 
his wife, and having loved her exceedingly, he 
was very sorry when she died. Finding himself 
quite unhappy for her loss, he resolved to marry 
a second time, thinking by this means he should 


oe as happy as before. Unfortunately, however, the lady he 
chanced to fix upon was the proudest and most haughty woman 


ever known ; she was always out of humour with every one, 


nobody could please her, and she returned the civilities of those 


48 













CIN DERELLA. 


41 

about her with the most affronting disdain. She had two 
daughters by a former husband, whom she brought up to be 
proud and idle ; indeed, in temper and behaviour they perfectly 
resembled their mother; they did not love their books, and 
would not learn to work; in short, they were disliked by every 
body. The gentleman on his side, too, had a daughter, who, in 
sweetness of temper and carriage, was the exact likeness of her 
! °wn mother, whose death he had so much lamented, and whose 
tender care of the little girl he was in hopes to see replaced by 
that of his new bride. But scarcely was the marriage ceremony 
over, before his wife began to show her real temper: she could 
not bear the pretty little girl, because her sweet, obliging man¬ 
ners made those of her own daughters appear a thousand times 
I the more odious and disagreeable. 

She, therefore, ordered her to live in the kitchen; and, if ever 
she brought any thing into the parlour, always scolded her till she 
was out of 

washing the dishes, and rubbing the lables and chairs; it was 
j her place to clean madam’s chamber, and that of the misses her 
idaughters, which was all inlaid, had beds of the newest fashion, 

I and looking-glasses so long and broad, that they saw themselves 
I from head to foot in them; while the little creature herself was 
forced to sleep up in a sorry garret, upon a wretched straw-bed, - 
without curtains, or anything to make her comfortable. The 
poor child bore this with the greatest patience, not daring to 
:j complain to her father, who, she feared, would only reprove her 
for she saw that his wife governed him entirely. 

. 3*. 

A* 


sight. She made her work with the servants in 





50 


CINDERELLA. 


When she had done all her work she used to sit in the chim¬ 
ney-corner among the cinders ; so that in the house she went by 
the name of Cinderbreech • the youngest of the two sisters! 
however, being rather more civil than the eldest, called her Cin¬ 
derella. And Cinderella, dirty and ragged as she was, as often 
happens in such cases, was a thousand times prettier than her 
sisters, drest out in all their splendour. It happened that the 
king’s son gave a ball, to which he invited all the persons of 
fashion in the country ; our two misses were of the number; for 
the king’s son did not know how disagreeable they were; but 
supposed as they were so much indulged that they were ex¬ 
tremely amiable. He did not invite Cinderella, fpr he had never 
seen or heard of her. 

The two sisters began immediately to be very busy m pre¬ 
paring for the happy day : nothing could exceed their joy : every 
moment of their time was spent in fancying such gowns, shoes, 
and head-dresses, as would set them off to the greatest advantage.^ 
All this was new vexation to poor Cinderella, for it was she who 
ironed and plaited her sisters’ linen. They talked* of nothing but 
how they should be dressed. “ I,” said the eldest, “ will wear my 
scarlet velvet with French trimming.”—“ And I,” said-the youngest,, 
“ shall wear the same petticoat I had made for th^astball r^jptheii 
to make amends for that, I shall put on my gold muslin train, and 
wear my diamonds in my hair; with these I must certainly look 
well.” They sent several miles for the best hair-dresser that was 
to be had, and all their ornaments were bought at the most fash¬ 
ionable shops. " On the morning of the ball, they called up Cin- 


CINDERELLA. 


51 




derella to consult with her about their dress, for they knew she 
had a great deal of taste. Cinderella gave them the best advice 
she could, and even offered to assist in adjusting their head¬ 
dresses ; which wa's exactlywhat they wanted, and they accor¬ 
dingly accepted her proposal. While Cinderella was busily 
engaged in dressing her sisters, they said to her: “ Should you 
not like, Cinderella, to go to the ball ?”■—“ Ah!” replied Cinderella, 
“ you are only laughing at me; it is not for such as I am to think 
of going to balls.”—“You are in the. right,” said they; “folks 
might laugh indeed, to see a Cinderbreech dancing in a ball 
room.” Any other than a Cinderella would have tried to make 
the haughty creatures look as ugly as she could ; but the sweet- 
tempered girl, on the contrary, did every thing she could think 
of to make them look well. The sisters had scarcely eaten any 
thing for two days, so great was their joy as the happy day drew 
near. More than a dozen laces were broken in endeavouring to 
*give them a fine, slender shape, and they were always before the 
looking-glass. At length, the much wished-for moment arrived; 
the proud misses stepped into a beautiful carriage, and, followed 
by servants in rich liveries, drove towards the palace. Cinderella 
followed them with her eyes as far as she could ; and when they 
were out of si’^xt, she sat do\yn in a corner and began to cry 
Her godmother,’who saw her in tears, asked her what aifed her. 

“ I wish-1 w-i-s-h—” sobbed poor Cinderella, without being 

able to say another word. The godmother, who was a fairy, 
said to her : “ You wish to go to the ball, Cinderella; is not this 
the truth ? ”—“ Alas ! yes,” replied the poor child, sobbing still 



?« 


52 CINDERELLA. 

more than before. “Well, well, be a good girl,” said the god¬ 
mother, “ and you shall go.” She then led Cinderella to her 
bedchamber, and said to her : “ Run into the garden and bring 
me a pumpion.” Cinderella flew like lightning, and brought the 
finest she could lay hold of. Her godmother scooped out the 
inside, leaving but the rind; she then struck it with her wand, 
and the pumpion instantly became a fine coach, gilded all over 
with gold. She then looked into' her mousetrap, where she 
found six mice, all alive and brisk: she told Cinderella to lift up 
the door of the trap very gently; and as the mice passed out, j 
she touched them one by one with her wand, and each immedi¬ 
ately became a beautiful horse, of a fine, dapple-gray mouse 
colour. “ Here, my child,” said the godmother, “ is a coach and 
horses too, as handsome as your sisters’; but what shall we do : 
for a postillion?”—“I will run,” replied Cinderella, “and see if 
there be not a rat in the trap : if I find one, he will do very well 
for a postillion.”—-“Well thought of, my child,” said her god-b 
mother: “ make what haste you can.” 

Cinderella brought the rat-trap, which to her great joy, con 
tained three of the largest rats ever seen. The fairy chose the - 
one which had the longest beard; and touching him with her 
wand, he was instantly turned into a handsome postillion, with 
the finest pair of whiskers imaginable. She next said to Cin¬ 
derella : “ Go again into the garden, and you will find s x lizards 
behind the watering-pot; bring them hither.” This was no 
sooner done, than with a stroke from the fairy’s wand they were 
changed into six footmen, who all jumped up. behind the coach 


CINDERELLA 


53 


m their laced liveries, and stood side by side as cleverly as if 
they had been used to nothing else the whole of their lives. The 
fairy then said to Cinderella: “Well, my dear, is not this such 
an equipage as you could wish for to take you to the ball ? Are 
you not delighted with it—“ Y-e-s,” replied Cinderella, with 
hesitation ; “ but must I go thither in these filthy rags ?” Her 
godmother touched her with the wand, and her rags instantly 
became the most magnificent apparel, ornamented with the most 
costly jewels in the whole world. To these she added a beau¬ 
tiful pair of glass slippers, and bade her set out for the palace. 
The fairy, however, before she took leave of Cinderella, strictly 
charged her on no account whatever to stay at the ball-after the 
clock had struck twelve, telling her that, should she stay but a 
single moment after that time, her coach would again become a 
pumpion, her horses mice, her footmen lizards, and her fine 
clothes be changed to filthy rags. Cinderella did not fail to 
promise all her godmother desired of her; and almost wild with 
joy drove away to the palace. As soon as she arrived, the king’s 
son, who had been informed that a great princess, whom nobody 
knew, was come to the ball, presented himself at the door of her 
carriage, helped her out, and conducted her to the ball-room. 
Cinderella no sooner appeared than every one was silent; both' 
the dancing and the music stopped, and every body was employed 
in gazing at the uncommon beauty of this unknown stranger, 
nothing was heard but whispers of, “ How handsome she is!” 
The king himself, old as he was, could not keep his eyes from 
her, and continually repeated to the queen, that it was a long 


54 


CINDER E L L A 


time since he had seen so lovely a creature. The ladies en 
deavoured to find out how her clothes were made, that they 
might get some of the same pattern for themselves by the nexl 
day, should they be lucky enough to meet with such handsome 
materials, and such good work-people to make them. 

The king’s son conducted her to the most honourable seat, 
and soon after took her out to dance with him. She both moved 
and danced so gracefully, that every one admired her still more 
than before, and she was thought the most beautiful and accom 
plished lady they ever beheld. After some time a delicious 
collation was served up ; but the young prince was so busily 
employed in looking at her, that he did not eat a morsel. Cin¬ 
derella seated herself near her sisters, paid them a thousand at¬ 
tentions, and offered them a part of the oranges and sweetmeats 
with which the prince had presented her: while they on their 
part were quite astonished at these civilities from a lady whom 
they did not know. As they were conversing together, Cin¬ 
derella heard the clock strike eleven and three quarters : she 
rose from her seat, courtesied to the company, and hastened away 
as fast as she could. As soon as she got home she flew to her 
godmother, and, after thanking her a thousand times, told her she 
would give the world to be able to go again to the ball the next 
day, for the king’s son had entreated her to be there. While she 
was telling her godmother every thing that had happened to her 
at the ball, the two sisters knocked a loud rat-tat-tat at the door , 
which Cinderella opened. “ How late you have stayed said 
she, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and stretching herself, as if just 


GIN DERELLA 


55 


awakened out of her sleep, though she had in truth felt no desire 
for sleep since they left her. “ If you had been at the ball/’ 
said one of the sisters, “ let me tell you, you would not have 
been sleepy; there came thither the handsomest, yes, the very 
handsomest princess ever beheld! She paid us a thousand at 
tentions, and made us take a part of the oranges and sweetmeats 
the prince had given her.” Cinderella could scarcely contain 
herself for joy : she asked her sisters the name of this princess . 
to which they replied, that nobody had been able to discover 
who she was ; that the king’s son was extremely grieved on that 
account, and had offered a large reward to any person who could 
find out where she came from. Cinderella smiled, and said: 
“ How very beautiful she must be ! How fortunate you are 1 
Ah, could I but see her for a single moment! Dear Miss Char¬ 
lotte, lend me only the yellow gown you wear every day, and 
let me go to see her.”—“ Oh! yes, I warrant you; lend my 
clothes to a Cinderbreech ! Do you really suppose me such a 
fool ? No, no : pray, Miss Forward, mind your proper business, 
and leave dress and balls to your betters.” Cinderella expected 
some such answer, and was by no means sorry, for she would 
have been sadly at a loss what to do if her sister had lent her the 
clothes that she asked of her. 

The next day, the two sisters again appeared at the ball, and 
so did Cinderella, but dressed much more magnificently than the 
night before The king’s son was continually by her side, and 
said the most obliging things to her imaginable. The charming 
young creature was far from being tired of all the agreeable 


CINDERELLA. 


things she met with : on the contrary, she was so delighted with 
them that she entirely forgot the charge her godmother had 
given her. Cinderella at last heard the striking of a clock, and 
counted one, two, three, on till she came to twelve, though she 
thought that it could be but eleven at most. She got up and 
flew as nimbly as a deer out of the ball-room. The prince tried 
to overtake her; but poor Cinderella’s fright made her run *the 
faster. However, in her great hurry, she dropped one of her 
glass slippers from her foot, which the prince stooped down and 
picked up, and took the greatest care of it possible. Cinderella 
got home tired and out of breath, in her old clothes, without 
either coach or footmen, and having nothing left of her mag¬ 
nificence but the fellow of the glass slipper which she had 
dropped. 

In the meanwhile, the prince had inquired of all his guards 
at the palace gates, if they had not seen a magnificent prin¬ 
cess pass out, and which way she went ? The guards re¬ 
plied, that no princess had passed the gates; and that they had 
not seen a creature but a little ragged girl, who looked more like 
a beggar than a princess. When the two sisters returned from 
the ball, Cinderella asked them if they had been as much amused 
as the night before, and if the beautiful princess had been there ? 
They told her that she had; but that as soon as the clock struck 
twelve, she hurried away from the ball-room, and in the great 
haste she had made, had dropped one of her glass slippers, which 
was the prettiest shape that could be ; that the king’s son had 
picked it up, and had done nothing but look at it all the rest of 


CINDERELLA. 


57 


the evening ; and that every body believed he was violently in 
love with the handsome lady to whom it belonged. 

This was very true ; for a few days after, the prince had it 
proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would marry the lady 
whose foot should exactly fit the slipper he had found. Accor¬ 
dingly the prince’s messengers took the slipper, and carried it 
first to all the princesses ; then to the dutchesses : in short, to 
all the ladies of the court, but without success. They then 
brought it to the two sisters, who each tried all she could to - * 
squeeze her foot into the slipper, but saw at last that this was 
quite impossible. Cinderella, who was looking at them all the 
while, and knew her slipper, could not help smiling, and ventured 
to say : “ Pray, sir, let me try to get on the slipper.” The gen¬ 
tleman made her sit down; and putting the slipper to her foot, 
it instantly slipped in, and he saw that it fitted her like wax. 
The two sisters were amazed to see that the slipper fitted Cin¬ 
derella ; but how much greater was their astonishment when she 
drew out of her pocket the other slipper and put it on! Just at 
this moment the fairy entered the room, and touching Cinde¬ 
rella’s clothes with her wand, made her all at once appear more 
magnificently dressed than they had ever seen her before. 

The two sisters immediately perceived that she was the beau¬ 
tiful princess they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves 
at her feet, and asked her forgiveness for the ill treatment she 
had received from them. Cinderella helped them to rise, and, 
tenderly embracing them, said that she forgave them with all her 
heart, and begged them to bestow on her their affection. Cin- 


58 


CINDERELLA. 


derella was then conducted, dressed as she was, to the young 
prince, who, finding her more beautiful than ever, instantly de¬ 
sired her to accept of his hand. The marriage ceremony took 
place in a few days ; and Cinderella, who was as amiable as she 
was handsome, gave her sisters magnificent apartments in the 
palace, and a short time after married them to two great lords ©1 
the court. 




RIQUET WITH THE TUFT. 


here was once upon a time a queen who had a 
little son; he had a hump upon his back, on 
account of which he was named Riquet with 
the tuft; and was besides so very ugly, that 
people hardly knew for a long time whether 
he had the form of a human creature. A fairy, who by chance 
was present at the prince’s birth, told his parents, that for all his 
ugliness, he would make himself pleasing to every one by his great 
wit and talents ; and she said, too, this was not all, for she would 
also bestow on him the power of giving the very same charms to 

59 









60 


RIQUET WITH THE TUFT. 


the person he should love best. All this was some comfort to the 
queen, who was in great grief at the thought of having brought 
such a frightful little creature into the world. It is true, as soon 
as he began to talk he said the most charming things that could 
be; and all that he did was done in so clever and pleasant a 
manner, as made every body love and admire. Seven years after 
this, the queen of another kingdom was brought to bed of twin- 
daughters. The one that was born first was more beautiful 
than the day; which caused the queen so much joy, that it was 
like to put her health in danger. The same fairy, who had been 
present at the birth of little Riquet of the Tuft, now chanced to 
be with this queen also at her lying-in; and to lessen the danger 
of her too great joy, she told her that the newborn princess should 
have no sense at all, but be as silly and stupid as she was hand 
some. This grieved the queen very much; but in a few min 
utes, she had still greater sorrow; for the second princess, when 
born, was the ugliest little thing that was ever beheld. When 
the fairy saw the queen’s distress at this, she said to her. “ I 
entreat your majesty do not thus afflict yourself; your daughter 
shall possess so much wit that nobody will perceive her want of 
beauty.”—“This would be a great comfort to me, indeed,” replied 
the queen; “ but cannot you bestow a small share of the same 
charming talent on the princess who is so beautiful.”—“ This 
is not in my power,” answered the fairy; “ I cannot meddle 
with her mind, but I can do all I please with respect to her 
beauty; and therefore, as there is nothing that I would not do 
for your sake, I will bestow on her a gift, that she shall be 

jv . . * • _ ' 

i 


R1QUET WITH THE TUFT 


61 


able to made the person whom she loves as handsome as she 
pleases.” 

As the .two young ladies grew up, nothing was talked of but 
the beauty of the eldest, and the wit and talents of the youngest. 
It is true, their defects grew in the same degree ; for the young¬ 
est became every day more ugly, and the eldest more senseless 
and stupid; she either did not reply at all to the questions that 
were asked of her, or spoke in as silly a manner as could be 
She was so very awkward, too, that if she had to place half a 
dozen teacups on the chimney-piece, she was sure to break one 
of them; or if she tried to drink a glass of water, she spilled half 
of it upon her clothes. Though beauty is a great charm to a young 
lady, yet the youngest princess was thought more of by every 
one than the eldest. To be sure, people went first to the eldest 
to see and admire; but they soon left her, to hear the clever and 
pleasing talk of her sister; so that in less than a quarter of an 
hour, the eldest always found herself alone, while all strangers 
got as near as they could to the youngest. Though the eldest 
was very stupid, yet she minded all this, and would gladly have 
parted with her beauty to gain but half the wit of her sister. 
The queen, for all her good nature, could not help scolding her 
now and then for being so stupid, which made the poor princess 
ready to die of grief. One day, having walked to a wood not far 
off, where she might sit down and cry at her ease, for her hard 
fate, without being seen, she saw a young man of small size, and 
very ugly, coming near to her: he was at the same time beauti¬ 
fully dressed. This was the young prince Riquet, who had fallen 


62 


RIQUET WITH THE TUFT. 


deeply in We with this princess, from the portraits he had every 
where seen of her, and had now left his father’s kingdom to have 
the pleasure of seeing and talking with her. 

He was charmed at meeting her alone, and went up to her, 
and spoke to her with great respect. Finding after the first com¬ 
pliments were over, that she seemed very mournful, he said . “ I 
cannot think, madam, how a lady with so much beauty as you 
have, can be so unhappy; for though I can boast of having seen 
a great number of handsome ladies, none of them could in the 
smallest degree compare with you.”—“ You are pleased to flatter 
me,” replied the princess, without saying a word more. “ Beauty,” 
answered Riquet with the Tuft, “ is so great a charm that it sup¬ 
plies the place of every thing else; and she who owns so great 
a blessing, ought to be careless of every kind of misfortune.”—“ I 
would much rather,” said the princess, “ be as ugly as you are, 
and possess wit, than have the beauty you praise, and be such a 
fool as I am.”—“ Nothing, madam,” replied the prince, “is a 
surer mark of good sense, than to believe ourselves in want of 
it; indeed, the more sense we possess, the plainer we see how 
much we fall short of being perfect.”—“ 1 know nothing of what 
you are talking,” answered the princess; “ I only know that T 
am very foolish, and that is the cause of my grief.”—“ If that is 
all that makes you unhappy, madam,” said the prince, “ I can 
very soon put an end to your sorrow.”—“ By what means, pray ?” 
asked the princess. “I have the power,” said Riquet with the 
* Tuft, “ to bestow as much wit as I please on the person I am 
to love best in the world ; and as that person can be no other, 


R1QUET WITH THE TUFT. 


6? 


madam, than yourself, it depends only on your own will to be the 
wittiest lady upon the earth. I shall ask of you in return but one 
thing; which is, that you consent to marryrne.” 

The princess looked at him with great surprise, but did not 
speak a word. “ I see,” added Riquet, “ that my offer makes 
you uneasy, and I do not wonder at it; I will, therefore, give 
you a whole year to think of what answer you will give nae.” 
The princess was so very stupid and silly, and at the same time 
so much wished to be witty, that she resolved to accept the offer 
made her by Prince Riquet with the Tuft; she also thought a 
whole year a very long time, and would gladly have * made it 
shorter if she could. She, therefore, told the prince that she 
would marry him on that day twelvemonth; and as soon as she 
had spoken these words, she found herself quite another crea- 
ture . she said every thing she wished, not only with the greatest 
ease, but in the most graceful manner She at once took share 
in a pleasing discourse with the prince, in which she showed her¬ 
self so witty, that Riquet began to fear he had given her more 
of the charming talent, for which she so much longed, than he 
had kept to himself. When the princess went back to the palace, 
the whole court were thrown into the utmost surprise at the sud 
den change they found in her; for every thing she now said 
was as clever and pleasing, as it had been before stupid and 
foolish. 

The joy at this event was the greatest ever known through the 
court; the youngest princess was the only person who did not 
share in it; for as her wit no longer served to set her above the 


64 


RIQUET WITH THE TUFT. 


beauty of her sister, she now seemed to every one a most ugly 
and frightful creature. 

The news of this great change being every where talked ol, 
it soon reached the ears of the princes in other kingdoms, who 
all hastened to gain her favour, and demand her for a wife. But 
the princess would hardly listen to all they had to say; not one 
of them had wit enough to make her think of his offer in earnest 
for a moment. At last, there came a prince so great, so rich, so 
witty, and so handsome, that she could not help feeling a great 
liking for him. When the king, her father, saw this, he told her 
she only had to choose the husband whom she liked, and that she 
might be sure of his consent to her marriage. As the most sen¬ 
sible persons are always the most careful how to resolve in such 
serious matters, the princess, after thanking her father, begged 
him to allow her time to think of what she should do. Soon 
after this, the princess chanced in her walk to wander towards 
the very wood in which she had met Riquet with the Tuft; and 
wishing to be free from being disturbed while thinking of her new 
lover, she strolled a good way into it. When she had walked 
about for some time, she heard a great noise under ground, like 
the sound of many persons running backwaids and forwards, and 
busy on some great affair. After listening for a moment, she 
heard different voices ; one said : “ Bring me that kettle another 
said : “ Fetch the great boileranother * “ Put some coals on the 
fire.” 

At the same moment, the ground opened, and the princess saw 
with the greatest surprise, a large kitchen filled with vast num 


RIQUET WITH THE TUFT. 


65 


bers of cooks, servants, and scullions, with all sorts of things fit 
for making ready a noble dinner ; some had rolling-pins and were 
making ready the most dainty sorts of pastry: others were beat¬ 
ing the syllabubs, and turning the custards : and at one end ol 
the kitchen she saw at least twenty men-cooks, all busy in trus¬ 
sing different sorts of the finest game and poultry, and singing all 
the time as merry as could be. The princess, in the utmost sur 
prise at what she beheld, asked them to whom they belonged. 

“To Prince Riquet with the Tuft, madam,” said the head 
cook; “ it is his weddi»g dinner we are making ready.” The 
princess was now in still greater surprise than before; but in a 
moment it came into her mind, that this was just the day twelve- 
month on which she had promised to marry Prince Riquet 
When she thought of this, she was ready to sink on the ground 
The reason of her not thinking of it before was, that when she 
made the promise to the prince she was quite silly, and the wit 
which the prince had given to her, had made her forget all that 
had happened to her before. She tried to walk away from the 
place ; but had not gone twenty steps, when she saw Riquet with 
the Tuft before her, dressed finely in the grandest wedding suit 
that was ever seen. “You see, madam,” said he, “that I have 
kept my promise strictly; and I dare say you are come for the 
same purpose, and to make me the most happy of men.”—“ I 
must confess,” replied the princess, “ that I have not yet made 
up my mind on that subject; and also, that I fear I can never 
consent to what you desire.”—“ You quite surprise me, madam,” 

answered Prince Riquet. “ That I can easily believe,” replied 
4 


66 


RIQUET WITH THE TUFT. 


the princess, “ and to be sure, I should be greatly at a loss what 
to say, .£ I did not know that you possess the best sense in the 
world. If you were a silly prince you would say : £ The promise 
of a princess should not be broken, and therefore you must marry 
me.’ But you, Prince Piquet, who have so much more sense 
than any body else, will, I hope, excuse me for what I have said. 
You cannot forget that when I was only a silly, stupid princess, 
I would not freely consent to marry you; how, therefore, now that 
I am blessed with sense, and for that reason must ol course be 
the more hard to be pleased, can you expect me to choose the 
prince I then would not accept ? If you really wished to marry 
me, you did very wrong to change me from the most silly crea 
iure in the world, to the most witty, so as to make me see more 
plainly the faults of others.” 

“ If, madam,” replied Riquet with the Tuft, “ you would think 
it but right in a prince without sense to blame you for what you 
have said, why should you deny me the same power in an affair 
m which the welfare of my whole life is at stake ? Is it just that 
persons of sense should be worse treated than those who have 
none ? Can you, my princess, who are now so very clever, and 
who so much wished to be so, resolve, indeed, to treat me in this 
manner ? But let us reason upon it a little. Is there any thing in 
me besides my being ugly that you dislike ? Do you object to 
my birth, my sense, my temper, manners, or rank?”—“No, 
none of these,” replied the princess ; “ I dislike nothing in you 
but your being so very ugly.” —“ If that is the case,” answered 
Riquet, “ I shall soon be the most happy man alive ; for you, 


RIQUET WITH THE TUFT. 


67 


princess, have the power to make me as handsome as you please.” 
—“ How can that be ?” asked the princess. “ Nothing more is 
wanting, ’ said Riquet, “ than you should love me well enough 
to wish me very handsome. In short, my charming princess, I 
must inform you that the same fairy who, at my birth, was pleased 
to bestow upon me the gift of making the lady I loved best as 
witty as I pleased, was present also at yours, and gave to you the 
power of making him whom you should love the best as hand¬ 
some as you pleased ” 

“ If that is the case,” said the princess, “ I wish you, with ah 
my heart, to be the most handsome prince in all the world; and 
as much as depends on me I bestow on you the gift of beauty.” 

As soon as the princess had done speaking, Riquet with the 
Tuft seemed to her eyes the most handsome, best shaped, and 
most pleasing person that she had' ever beheld. Some people 
thought that this great change in the prince, was not brought 
about by the gift of the fairy, but that the love which the prin¬ 
cess felt for him was the only cause of it; and in their minds the 
princess thought so much of the good faith of her lover, of his 
prudence, and the goodness of his heart and mind, that she no 
longer thought of either his being so ugly in his face, or so crooked 
in his shape. The hump on his back, such people thought, now 
seemed to her nothing more than the easy gait in which men of 
rank sometimes indulge themselves ; and his lameness seemed a 
careless freedom, that was very graceful; the squinting of his 
eyes, in those of the princess, did but make them seem more 
sparkling and more tender ; and his thick red nose, in her mind, 


68 


RIQUET WITH iHE TUFT. 

_ • m 


gave a manly and warlike air to his whole face. Let this be as 
it may, the princess promised to marry Prince Riquet with the 
Tuft, directly, if he could obtain the consent of the king, her fa 
ther. When the king wa§ told that his daughter felt a great 
esteem for Riquet with the Tuft, as he had already heard of the 
goodness of both the heart and mind of that prince, he agreed 
with pleasure to have him for a son-in-law ; so that the next day, 
as the prince had long hoped for, he was married to the beauti¬ 
ful and no less witty princess. 





HOP-O’-MY-THUMB. 

I 

here once lived in a village a fagot-maker and 
his wife, who had seven children, all boys ; the 
eldest was no more than ten years old, and the 
youngest w T as only seven. It was odd enough, 
to be sure, that they should have had so many 
a short time ; but the truth is, his wife often 
brought him two at a time. This made him very poor, for not 
one of these boys was old enough to get his living: and what 
was still worse, the youngest was a puny little fellow, who 
Hardly ever spoke a word. Now this, indeed, was a mark of his 















70 


HOP-O’-M MHUMB. 


good sense; but it made his father and mother suppose him to 
be silly, and they thought that at last he would turn out quite a 
fool. This boy was of the least size ever seen : for when he was 
born he was no bigger than a man’s thumb, which made him be 
christened by the name of Hop-o’-my-Thumb. Tho poor child 
was the drudge of the whole house, and always bore the blame 
of every thing that was done wrong. For all this, Hop-o’-my 
Thumb was far more clever than any of his brothers ; and though 
he spoke but little, he heard and knew more than people thought. 
It happened just at this time, that for want of rain the fields had 
grown but half as much corn and potatoes as they used to grow; 
so that the fagot-maker and his wife could not give the boys the 
food they had before, which was always either bread or potatoes. 

After me father and mother had grieved sometime for this sad 
affair, which gave them more concern than any thing had ever 
done yet, they thought that as they could contrive no other way, 
they must some how get rid of their children. One night, when 
the children were gone to bed, and the fagot-maker and his wife 
were sitting over a few lighted sticks, to warm themselves, the 
husband sighed deeply, and said : “You see, my dear, we cannot 
maintain our children any longer; and to see them die of hun¬ 
ger before my eyes, is what I could never bear. I will, there-' 
lore, to-morrow morning, take them to the forest, and leave them 
m the thickest part of it, so that they will not be able to find their 
way back : this will be very easy; for while they amuse them¬ 
selves with tying up the fagots, we need only slip away when 
they are looking some other way.”—“ Ah, husband f ” cried the 


HOP-O'-MY-THTJMB. 


71 


poor wife, “ you cannot, no, you never can consent to be th»; death 
of your own children. 5 ’ The husband in vain told her tp think 
how very poor they were. The wife replied, this was true to be 
sure ; but if she was poor, she was still their mother; and then 
she cried as if her heart would break. At last, she thought how 
shocking it would be to see them starving to death before her 
eyes ; so she agreed to what her husband had said, and then went 
sobbing to bed. Hop-o’-my-Thumb had been awake all the 
time ; and when he heard his father talk very serious, he slipped 
away from his brother’s side, and crept under his father’s bed, to 
hear all that was said without being seen. When his father and 
mother had left off talking, he got bac£ to his own place, and 
passed the night in thinking what he should do the next morning. 
He rose early, and ran to the river’s side, where he filled his 
pockets with small white pebbles, and then went back home. In 
the morning they all set out, as their father and mother had 
agreed on; and Hop-o’-my-Thumb did not say a word to either 
of his brothers about what lie had heard. They came to a forest 
that was so very thick, that they could not see each other a few 
yards off. The fagot-maker set to work cutting down wood; and 
the children began to gather all the twigs, to make fagots of 
them. 

When the father and mother saw that the young ones were all 
very busy, they slipped away without being seen by them, and 
got into a by-path, where they soon lost sight of the forest. In 
a short time the children found themselves alone, and began to 
cry as loud as they could. Hop-o’-my-Thumb let them cry on; 


72 


hop-o’-my-thumb 


for he knew weil enough how to take them safe home, as he had 
taken care to drop the white pebbles he had in his pocket along 
all the way he had come He only said to them : “ Never mmd 
it, my lads ; father and mother have left us here by ourselves, but 
only take care to follow me, and I will lead you back again.” 
When they heard this, they left off crying, and followed Hop-o’- 
my-Thumb, w T ho soon brought them to their father’s house by the 
very same path which they had come along. At first, they had 
not the courage to go in, but stood at the door to hear what their 
parents were talking about. Just as the fagot-maker and his 
wife had come home without their children, a great gentleman of 
the village sent to pay them two guineas, which he had owed 
them so long for work they had done for him, that they never 
thought of getting a farthing of it. This money made them quite 
happy; for the poor creatures were very hungry, and had no 
other way of getting any thing to eat. 

The fagot-maker sent his wife out in a moment to buy some 
meat; and as it was a long time since she had made a hearty 
meal, she bought as much meat as would have been enough for 1 
six or eight persons. The truth" was, she forgot that her children J 
were not at home, when she was thinking of what would be 
enough for dinner: but as soon as she and her husband had done I 
eating, she cried out: “ Alas ! where are cmi poor children ? how ; 
they would feast on what we have left! it was all your fault 
Richard! I told you over and over that we should repent the j 
hour when we left them to starve in the forest ? —Oh, mercy ! ) 
perhaps they have been already eaten up by the hungry wolves ' \ 


HOP-O -MY-THUMB 


73 


Richard ! Richard ! I told you how it would be !” At last, the 
fagot-maker grew very angry with his wife, who said more than 
twenty times that he would repent what he had done, and that 
she had told him so again and again. He said he would give her 
a good beating if she did not hold her tongue. Now, indeed, 
the fagot-maker was quite as sorry as his wife, for what had been 
done : but her scolding teased him ; and like other husbands, he 
* Liked his wife to he always in the right; hut not to talk of being 
so. The poor woman shed plenty of tears : “ Alas ! alas !” said 
she, over and over again, “what is become of my dear children?” 
and once she spoke this so loud that the children, who were all 
at the door, cried out all together: “ Here we are, mother; here 
we are !” She flew like lightning to let them in, and kissed every 
one of them. “ How glad I am to see you, you little rogues,” 
said she : “ are you not tired and hungry ? Ah, poor little Bob¬ 
by ! why, thou art dirt all over, my child! come hither and let 
me wash thy face.” Bobby was the youngest of the boys ex¬ 
cepting Hop-o’-my-Thumb; and as he had red hair, like his 
mother, he had always been her darling. The children sat down 
to dinner, and ate very hearty, to the great joy of the parents 
They then gave an account speaking all at once, how much they 
were afraid when they found themselves alone in the forest, and 
did not know their way home again 

The fagot-maker and his wife were charmed at having theii 
children once more along with them, and their joy for this lasted 
till their money was all spent: but then they found themselves 
quite as ill off as before. So by degrees they again thought of 


74 


HOP-O’-MY-THUMB 


leaving them in the forest once more . and that the young ones 
might not come back a second time, they said that they would 
take them a great deal farther off than they did at first. They 
could not talk about this matter so slyly but that Hop-o’-my- 
Thumb found means to hear all that passed between them; but 
he cared very little about it, for he thought it would be easy for 
him to do just the same as he had done before. But though he 
got up very early the next morning to go to the rivers side and 
get the pebbles, a thing that he had not thought of hindered him, 
for he found that the house door was double-locked. Hop-o’- 
Thumb was now quite at a loss what to do ; but soon after this, 
his mother gave each of the children a piece of bread for break 
fast, and then it came into his head that he could make his share 
do as well as the pebbles, by dropping crumbs of it all the way 
as they went. So he did not eat his piece, but put it into his 
pocket. It was not long before they all set out, and their parents 
took care to lead them into the very thickest and darkest part of 
the forest. They then slipped away by a by-path as before, and 
left the children by themselves again. All this did not give Hop- 
o’-my-Thumb any concern, for he thought himseif quite sure of 
getting back by means of the crumbs that he had dropped by the 
way: but when he came to look for them, he found that not a 
morsel was left, for the birds had eaten th®m all up. 

The poor children were now sadly off, for the further they 
went, the harder it was for them to get out of the forest. At 
last, night came on, and the noise of the wind among the trees 
seemed to them as if it was the howling of wolves, so that every 


H 0 P - O’ - M Y - T H UMB 


75 


moment they thought they should be eaten up. They hardly 
dared to speak a word, or move a limb, for fear. Soon after, 
there came a heavy rain, which wetted them to the very skin, 
and made the ground so slippery, that they fell down almost 
at every step, and got dirty all over: for the little ones* called 
out to their elder brother, to get the mud off their hands 

Wnen it oegan to grow light, Hop-o’-my-Thumb climbed up 
to the top of a tree, and looked round on all sides to see if he 
could find any way of getting help. He saw a small light, like 
that of a candle, but it was a very great way off, and beyond the 
forest. He then came down from the tree, to try to find his way 
to it; but he could not see it when he was on the ground, and 
he was in the utmost trouble what to do next. They walked 
on toward the place where he had seen the light, and at last 
reached the end of the forest, and got sight of it again. They 
now walked faster ; and after being much tired and vexed, (for 
every time they got into a bottom they lost sight of the light,) 
they came to the house it was in. They knocked at the door, 
which was opened by a very goodnatured-looking lady, who 
asked what brought them there. Hop-o’-my-Thumb told her, 
that they were poor children, who had lost their way in the forest 
and begged that she would give them a bed till morning. When 
the lady saw that they had such pretty faces she began to shed 
tears, and said : “ Ah, poor children, you do not know what place 
you are come to. This is the house of an Ogre, who eats up 
little boys and girls.”—“ Alas ! madam,” replied Hop-o’-my- 
Thumb, who trembled from head to foot, as well as his brothers 

1 . 


76 


HOP-O’-MY-THUMB. 


“ what shall we do ? If we go back to the forest we are sure of 
being torn to pieces by the wolves ; we would rather, therefore, 
be eaten up by the gentleman: besides, when he sees us, per¬ 
haps he may take pity on us, and spare our lives.” The Ogre’s 
wife thought she could contrive to hide them from her husband 
till the morning; so she let them go in and warm themselves by 
a good fire, before which there was a whole sheep roasting for the 
Ogre’s supper. When they had stood a short time by the fire, 
there came a loud knocking at the door: this was the Ogre 
His wife hurried the children under the bed, and told them to lie 
still; and she then let her husband in. 

The Ogre asked if the supper was ready, and if the wine was 
fetched from the cellar; and then he sat down at the table. The 
sheep was still all bloody, but he liked it so much the better. In 
a minute or two the Ogre began to snuff to his right and left, and 
said he smelled child’s flesh. “ It must be this calf’s which has 
just been killed,” said his wife. “ I smell child’s flesh, I tell thee 
once more,” cried the Ogre, looking all about the room; “ I 
smell child’s flesh; there is something going on that I do not : 
know of.” As soon as he had spoken these words he rose from ' 
his chair and went towards the bed. “ Ah! madam,” said he, \ 
“ you thought to cheat me, did you ! Wretch ! thou art old and : 
tough thyself, or else I would eat thee up too ! But come, c; me, I 
this is lucky enough ; for the brats will make a nice dish for three J 
Ogres, who are my particular friends, and who are to dine with 
me to-morrow.” He then drew them out, one by one, from un¬ 
der the bed. The poor children fell on their knees and begged 


HOP-O’-MY - T H U M B . 


77 


his pardon as well as they could speak; but this Ogre was the 
most cruel of all Ogres, and instead of feeling any pity, he only 
began to think how sweet and tender their flesh would be •, so he 
told his wife “ they would be nice morsels, if she served them 
up with plenty of sauce.” He then fetched a large knife, and 
began to sharpen it on a long whetstone that he held in his left 
hand; and all the while he came nearer and nearer to the bed. 
The Ogre took up one of the children, and was going to set about 
cutting him to pieces ; but his wife said to him : “ What in the 
world makes you take the trouble of killing them to-night ? Will 
it not be time enough to-morrow morning ?”—“ Hold your prat¬ 
ing,” replied the Ogre ; “ they will grow tender by being kept a 
little while after they are killed.”—“ But,” said his wife, “ you 
have got so much meat in the house already ; here is a calf, two 
sheep, and half a pig.”—“ True,” said the Ogre, “ so give them 
all a good supper, that they may not get lean; and then send 
them to bed.” The good creature was quite glad at this. She 
gave them plenty for their supper, but the poor children were so 
afraid that they could not eat a bit. 

The Ogre sat down to his wine, very much pleased with the 
thought of giving his friends such a dainty dish; this made him 
drink rather more than common, and he was soon obliged to go 
to bed himself. The Ogre had seven daughters, who were all 
very young, like Hop-o’-my-Thumb and his brothers. These 
young Ogresses had fair skins, because they fed on raw meat 
like their father; but they had small, gray eyes, quite round, and 
sunk in their heads, hooked noses, wide mouths, and very long, 


78 


HOP-O’-MY-THUMB. 

sharp teeth standing a great way off each other. They were too 
young as yet to do much mischief: but they showed that if they 
lived to be as old as their father, they would grow quite as cruel 
as he was ; for they took pleasure already in biting young chil¬ 
dren, and sucking their blood. These Ogresses had been put to 
bed very early that night: they were all in one bed, which was 
very large, and every one of them had a crown of gold on her 
head. There was another bed of the same size in the room, and 
m this the Ogre’s wife put the seven little boys, and then went 
to bed herself along with her husband. Hop-o’-my-Thumb took 
notice that all the young Ogresses had crowns of gold, upon their 
heads ; and he was afraid that the Ogre would wake in the night 
and kill him and his brothers while they were asleep. So he got 
out of bed in the middle of the night as softly as he could, took 
off all his brother’s nightcaps and his own, and crept, with them 
to the bed that the Ogre’s daughters were m: he then took off 
their crowns, and put the nightcaps on their heads instead: next 
he put the crowns on his brothers’ heads and his own, and got 
into bed again; so he thought, after this, that if the Ogre should 
come, he would take him and his brothers for his own children. 
Every thing turned out as he wished. The Ogre waked soon 
after midnight, and began to be very sorry that he had put off kil¬ 
ling the boys till the morning ; so he jumped out of bed, and took 
hold of his large knife m a moment: “ Let us see,” said he, 
“ what the young rogues are about, and do the job at once !” 
He then walked softly to the room, where they all slept, and 
went up to the bed the boys were in, who were all asleep except 


hop-o’-my-thumb 


79 


Hop-o’-my-Thumb, and touched their heads one at a time. When 
the Ogre felt the crowns of gold, he said to himself: “ Oh ! oh 
I had like to have made a pretty mistake. I think, to be sure, 
I drank too much wine last night ” He went next to the bed 
*hat his daughters were in, and when he felt the nightcaps he 
said : “ Ah ! here you are, my lads *” and so in a moment he cut 
the throats of all his daughters. 

He was very much pleased when he had done this, and then 
went back to his own bed. As soon as Hop-o’-my-Thumb heard 
him snore, he awoke his brothers, and told them to put on their 
clothes quickly, and follow him. They stole down softly # into 
the garden, and then jumped from the wall into the road: they 
ran as fast as their legs could carry them, but were so much 
afraid all the while that they hardly knew which way to take. 
When the Ogre waked in the morning, he said to his wife * “ My 
dear, go and dress the young rogues I saw last night.” The 
Ogress was quite surprised at hearing her husband so kind to 
them as she thought, and did not dream of the real meaning of 
his words. She supposed he wanted her to help them put 
their clothes on; so she went up stairs, and the first thing she 
saw was her seven daughters with their throats cut, and all over 
blood. This threw her into a fainting fit. The Ogre was afraid 
his wife might be too long in doing what he had set her about, 
so he went himself to help her; but he was as much shocked as 
she had been, at the dreadful sight of his bleeding childreh. 
“ Ah ! what have I done ?” he cried; “ but the little varlets shall 
pay for it, I warrant them.” He first threw some water on his 


80 


HOP- o’- MY - - THUMB. 


wife’s face; and as soon as she came to herself, he said to her 
“ Bring me quickly my seven-league boots, that I may go and catch 
the little vipers.” The Ogre then put on these boots, and set 
out with all speed. He strided over many parts of the country 
and at last turned into the very road in which the poor children 
were, on their journey towards their father’s house, and which 
they had now almost reached. They had seen the Ogre a good 
while striding from mountain to mountain at one step, and cross 
mg rivers with the greatest ease. At this, Hop-o’-my-Thumb 
thought within himself what was to be done ; and spying a hol¬ 
low place under a large rock, he made his brothers get into it. 
He then stepped in himself, but kept his eye fixed on the Ogre, 
to see what he would do next. 

The Ogre found himself quite weary with the journey he had 
gone, for seven-league boots are very tiresome to the person who 
wears them; so he now began to think of resting, and happened 
to sit down on the very rock that the poor children were hid in. 
As he was so tired, and it was a very hot day, he fell fast asleep, 
and soon began to snore so loud, that the little fellows were ter¬ 
rified. When Hop-o’-my-Thumb saw this, he said to his bro¬ 
thers: “ Courage, my lads ! never fear! You have nothing to 
do but to steal away, and get home while the Ogre is fast asleep, 
and leave me to shift for myself.” The brothers now were very 
glad to do as he told them, and so they soon came to their father’s 
house. 

In the meantime, Hop-o’-my-Thumb went up to the Ogre soft 
ly, pulled off his seven-league boots very gently, and put them 


HOP-O -MY-THUMB 


81 


on his own legs; for though the boots were very large, yet they 
were fairies, and so could make themselves small enough to fit 
any leg they pleased. 

As soon as ever Hop-o’-my-Thumb had made sure of the Ogre’s 
seven-league boots, he went at once to the palace, and offered 
his services to carry orders from the king to his army, which was 
a great way off, and to bring back the quickest accounts of the 
battle they were just at that time fighting with the enemy. In 
short, he thought he could be of more use to the king than all his 
mail coaches, and so should make his fortune in this mariner. 
But before he had made many strides with his boots, he heard a 
voice that told him to stop. Hop-o’-my-Thumb was startled a 
good deal, so he looked about him to see what the noise came 
from ; and then he heard the same voice say: “ Listen, Hop-o’- 
my-Thumb, to what I am about to say to you. Do not go to the 
palace. Waste no time; the Ogre sleeps; he may awake. 
Know, Hop-o’-my-Thumb, that the boots you took from the 
Ogre while he was asleep are two fairies, and I am the eldest of 
them. We have seen the clever things you have done to keep 
your brothers from harm, and for that reason we will bestow upon 
you the gift of riches, if you will once more employ your wits to 
a good purpose, and be as brave as before. But fairies must not 
speak of such matters as these ; break the shed of the largest 
nut you can find in your pocket, and you will find a paper inside 
that will tell you all that you are to do.” Hop-o’-my-Thumb did 
not stand thinking about these strange things, but m a moment 
put his hand into his pocket for the nut. He next cracked it 


82 HOP- O’-MY -THUMB 

with his teeth, and found a piece of paper inside, carefully folded 
up . which he opened, and to his great surprise read as follow s j 

“ Go unto the Ogre’s door, 

These words speak, and nothing more : 

Ogress, Ogre cannot come; 

Give great key to Hop-o’-my-Thumb.” 

Hop-o’-my-Thumb now began to say the last two lines oven 
and over again, for fear he should forget them; and when he 
thought he had learned them by heart, he made two or three of 
his largest strides, and soon reached the Ogre’s door. He 
knocked loudly, which brought the Ogre’s wife down stairs ; but 
at the sight of Hop-o’-my-Thumb she started back, and looked as 
if she would shut the door against him. Hop-o -my-Thumb 
knew he had not a moment to lose: so he seemed as if he did 
not think how much vexed she was at seeing him who had caused 
her daughters to be killed by their own father. Hop-o’-my- 
Thumb then began to talk as if he was in a great hurry. He 
said that matters were now changed ; for the Ogre had laid hold 
of him and his brothers, as they were getting nuts by the side of 
a hedge, and was going to take them back to his house : but all 
at once the Ogre saw a number of men who looked like lords, 
and who were riding on the finest horses that ever were beheld, 
coming up to him full speed. He said the Ogre soon found 
they were sent by the king with a message, to borrow of the 
Ogre a large sum of money, which he stood in need of to pay 
his soldiers, as the king thought the Ogre was the richest of all 


hop-o’-my-thumb 


83 


ms subjects. Hop-o’-my-Thumb said this on purpose to find how 
rich the Ogre was. He then said that the lords found themselves 
.very much tired with the long journey they had made ; and the 
Ogre was vastly civil to them, and told them they need not go 
any farther, because he had a person with him who would not 
fail doing in a clever manner any thing he was set about. He 
said that the great lords thanked the Ogre a thousand times when 
they heard this, and in the name of the king had granted to him 
the noble title of Duke of Draggletail; on which, the Ogre had 
then taken off his boots, and helped to draw them on the legs of 
Hop-o’-my-Thumb; and gave him this message, which he 
charged him by all means to make all the haste he could with, 
ooth in going and coming back again:— 

“ Ogress, Ogre cannot come; 

Give great key to Hop-o’-my-Thumb.” 

When the Ogress saw her husband’s boots, she was quite proud 
at the thoughts of being made Dutchess of Draggletail, and living 
at court, so that she was very ready to believe all that Hop-o’- 
my-Thumb had told her; indeed, so great was her joy, that she 
quite forgot her seven daughters with their throats cut and bathed 
in their blood. She ran m a minute to fetch the great key, and 
gave it to Hop-o’-my-Thumb, telling him at the same time where 
to find the chest of money and jewels that it would open. Hop 
o’-my-Thumb took as much of these riches as he thought would 
be enough to maintain his father, mother and brothers, without 
the fatigue of labour, all the rest of their lives; saying to him 


84 


HOP-O'-MY-THUMB. 


self all the while that it was better an honest fagot-maker should 
have part of such great riches, than an Ogre, who did nothing but 
eat children, and who kept all the money locked up without 
spending it or giving any to the poor. In a short time, Hop-o’- 
my-Thumb came to his father’s house, and all the family were 
glad t j see him again. As the great fame of his boots had been 
talked of at court in this time, the king sent for him, and indeed 
employed him very often on the greatest affairs of the state; so 
that he became one of the richest men in the kingdom. As for 
the Ogre, A; fell in his sleep from the corner of the rock where 
Hop-o’-my-Thumb and his brothers had left him, to the ground, 
and bruised himself so much from head to foot that he could not 
stir; so he was forced to stretch himself out at full length, and 
wait for some one to come and help him. 

Now a good many fagot-makers passed near the place where | 
the Ogre lay, and when they heard him groan, they went up to 
ask him what was the matter. But the Ogre had eaten such a 
great number of children in his lifetime, that he had grown so 
very big and fat that these men could not even have carried one 
of his legs ; so they were forced to leave him there. At last 
night came on, and then a large serpent came out of a wood just 
by, and stung him so that he died in great pain. Before this 
time Hop-o’-my-Thumb had become the king’s favourite . and as 
soon as ever he heard the news of the Ogre’s death, he told his 
majesty all that the goodnatured Ogress had done to save the-; 
lives of himself and brothers. The king was so much pleased.-: 
at what he heard, that he asked Hop-o’-my-Thumb if there were 


HOP-O -MY-THUMB 


85 


any favour he could bestow upon her. Rop-o’-my-Thumb 
thanked the king, and desired that the Ogress might have the 
noble title of Dutchess of Draggletail given to her; which was 
no sooner asked than granted. The Ogress then came to court, 
and lived very happily for many years ; enjoying the vast for¬ 
tune she had found in the Ogre’s chests. As for Hop-o’my- 
Thumb, he every day grew more witty and brave ; till at last the 
king made him the greatest lord in the kingdom, and set him 
over all his affairs. 





THE DISCREET PRINCESS 


mm Jn the time of the first crusades, a certain king 


resolved to join the Christian princes in the 
war against the infidels in Palestine. What 
most disquieted this prince, was the care of 
ftfiP I his family. He was tha father of three young 
The eldest of these princesses 


all marriageable. 


princesses, 

they named Drona, signifying idle ; the second Pratilia, implying 
talkative; and the third Finetta, names which had all of them a 
just relation to the characters of the three sisters. Never was 
any person so indolent as Drona; she never waked any day till 

86 




















THE DISCREET PRINCESS. 


87 


one in the afternoon; her clothes were always tumbled, her 
gown loose, no girdle, and very often she had on one slipper of 
one sort, and one of another. Pratilia led quite another sort of 
life. This princess was very brisk and active, and employed 
very little time about her person; but she had so strange an 
itching to talk, that from the very moment she waked till the 
time she fell asleep again, her mouth was never shut. She kept 
a register of all those wives who starved their families at home, 
to appear the finer abroad, and was exactly informed what such 
j a countess’s woman and such a marquis’s steward gained. The 
•better to be .instructed in all these little affairs, she gave audience 
to her nurse, and mantuamaker, with greater pleasure than she 
would to any ambassador; and when she had got any thing new, 
she tired every body with repeating to them these fine stories, 
from the king her father, down to the footman; for, provided she 
could but talk, she did not care to whom it was. Never did 
Pratilia, any more than Drona, employ herself in thinking, re¬ 
flecting, or reading. She never troubled herself about household 
[matters, or the amusements of her spindle or needle. In short, 
these two sisters lived in perfect idleness, as well of mind as of 
body. 

The youngest of these three princesses was of a different 
character. Her thoughts and hands were continually employed * 
ishe possessed surprising vivacity, and applied it to good uses. 
She danced, sung, and played upon music to perfection : finished 
with wonderful address and skill, all those works of the hand 
which generally amuse those of her sex, and used every vigilance 




88 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS 


m putting the king’s household into exact regulation and order 
Her talents were not bounded there : she had a great deal of 
judgment, and such a wonderful presence of mind, that she im 
mediately found the means of extricating herself out of the 
greatest difficulties This young princess had, by her penetra¬ 
tion, discovered a dangerous snare which a perfidious ambassador 
had laid for the king her father, in a treaty just ready to be signed 
by that prince. To punish the treaciiery of this ambassadoi and 
his master, the king altered the article of the treaty, and b} 
wording it in the terms his daughter dictated to him, he in his 
turn deceived the deceiver. The princess gave, on several other 
occasions, such marks of her penetration, and fine genius, that 
the people gave her the surname of Finetta. The king loved 
her far above his other daughters, and depended so much upon 
her good sense, that if he had no other child but her, he would 
have began his journey to join the crusades with no manner of 
uneasiness ; but he much distrusted the conduct of his other 
daughters. 

The king being very intimate with a powerful fairy, acquainted 
her with the uneasiness he was in about his daughters. As the 
fairy was one of the most expert, she gave the prince three en¬ 
chanted distaffs of glass, which were sure to break if either of 
the princesses did any thing wrong; but he was not content with 
this precaution. He put the princesses into a tower, vastly high, 
and which stood in a very solitary and desert place, and the king 
charged them not to admit into it any person whatsoever. He 
took from them all their officers and servants, and after having 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS 


89 


presented them with the enchanted distaffs, the qualities of 
which he told them, he kissed the princesses, locked the doors 
of the tower, of which he took himself the keys, and departed. 
To prevent them from perishing with hunger, care was taken to 
fix a pulley to one of the windows of the tower; there ran a rope 
through it, to which the princesses tied a basket, which they let 
down daily for provisions. Drona and Pratilia led such a life in 
this solitude, as filled them with despair. As for Finetta, she 
was not in the least out of humour; her spindle, needle, and 
music, furnished her with sufficient amusements. One day, as 
she was busied in her chamber about some pretty work, her 
sisters who were at the window, saw at the foot of the tower, a 
poor woman clothed in rags and tatters, who cried out to them 
in a sorrowful tone; and in a very moving manner, complained 
to them of her misery. She begged of them, with her hands 
joined together, that they would let her come into the castle, 
telling them that she was a wretched stranger, who knew how 
to do a thousand things, and would serve them with the utmost 
fidelity. “ Do you think,” said Pratilia to her sister, “ that the 
king’s order extends to this unfortunate wretch ? I believe we 
may take her in without any consequence.”—“You may do, 
sister,” answered Drona, “ what you please.” Then Pratilia, who 
only waited her consent, immediately let down the basket. The 
woman got into it, and the princesses drew her up by the help 
of the pulley. The new servant of these princesses took a hun¬ 
dred turns about the castle, under pretence of doing her work: 

but in reality to see how things were disposed in it; for this pre- 
5 


90 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS. 


tended beggar-woman was the son of a powerful king, a neigh¬ 
bour of the princesses’ father. This prince, who always acted 
with artifice and cunning, was by the people surnamed Rich-in 
craft, but in shortness Rich-craft. 

He had a younger brother, who was as full of good qualities 
as he was of bad; and, therefore, was generally called Bel-a-voir. 
It was prince Rich-craft who had put the ambassador of the king 
his father upon that wicked turn in the treaty, which was frus¬ 
trated by the address of Finetta, and fell upon themselves. 
Rich-craft, who, before that, had no great love for the princesses’ 
father, since then, bore him the utmost aversion ; so that when 
he had notice of the precautions which that prince had taken, in 
relation to his daughters, he took a pernicious pleasure to de¬ 
ceive, if possible, the prudence of so suspicious a father, and as 
we see had already contrived to make two of the princesses dis¬ 
obedient ; for which fault they each found their distaffs broken. 

Finetta was so busily engaged in her own room, that she knew 
nothing of what had happened till she heard the screams of her 
sisters, whom the prince beat severely and locked up together , 
he then went to seek Finetta, whom he resolved to marry as a 
punishment for what she had done. He went into all the rooms 
of the castle, one after another; and as he found them all open 
but one, which was fastened in the inside, he concluded for cer¬ 
tain, that thither it was that Finetta had retired. As he had 
composed a string of compliments, he went to retail them at 
Finetta’s door. But this princess heard him a good while, with¬ 
out making the least answer. At last, finding that he knew she 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS. 


91 


was in the room, she told him, if it were true that he had so 
strong and sincere a passion for her, as he would persuade her, 
she desired he would go down into the garden, and shut the door 
alter him, and after that, she would talk to him as much as he 
pleased out of the window of the apartment, which looked into 
the garden. Rich-craft would not agree to this; and as the 
princess still resolutely persisted in not opening the door, this 
wicked prince, mad with impatience, went and got a billet, and 
broke it open. He found Finetta armed with a great hammer, 
which had been accidentally left in a wardrobe near her chamber. 
Emotion raised Finetta’s complexion; and, though her eyes 
sparkled with rage, she appeared to Rich-craft a most enchanting 
beauty. 

He would have cast himself at her feet: but she said to him 
boldly, as she retired : “ Prince, if you approach me, I will cleave 
your head with this hammer.”—“ What! beautiful princess,” 
cried Rich-craft, in his hypocritical tone, “ does the love I have 
for you inspire you with such cruel hatred ?” He added, that the 
only motive he had to put on such disguise, was with respect to 
offer her his hand and heart: and told her, that she ought to 
pardon, on account of the violence of his love, his boldness in 
breaking open her door. The adroit princess feigning herself 
entirely pacified, told him, that she must find out her sisters, and 
after that, they would take their measures altogether: but Rich- 
craft answered, that he could by no means resolve upon that, 
till she had consented to marry him, tecause her sisters would 
not fail to oppose the match, on account of their right of elder- 


92 


THE DISCREET PRIiNCESS 


ship. Finetta, who with good reason distrusted this prince, found 
her suspicions redoubled by this answer. But she told Rich- 
craft, that she readily consented to marry him; but she was fully 
persuaded that marriages which were made at night, were always 
unhappy; and, therefore, desired he would defer the ceremony 
of plighting to each other their mutual faith, till the next morning, 
She added, he might be assured she would not mention a syl¬ 
lable of all this to the princesses, her sisters, and begged him to 
give her only a little time to say her prayers; that afterwards, 
she would lead him to a chamber where he should have a very 
good bed, and then she would i^turn to her own room till the 
morrow morning. 

Rich-craft consented to what the princess desired, and went 
away, to give her some time to meditate. He was no sooner 
gone, than Finetta hastened to make a bed over the hole of a 
sink in one of the rooms of the castle. 

This room was as handsome as any of the rest Finetta put 
over the hole two weak sticks across , then very handsomely 
made the bed upon them, and immediately returned to her cham 
ber. A moment after came Rich-craft, and the princess con¬ 
ducted him into the room where she had made him his bed, and 
retired. The prince threw himself hastily upon the bed, and his 
weight having all at once broken the slender sticks, he fell down 
to the bottom of the sink. Finetta was delighted to hear (by the 
noise of his falling) what had happened ; but her first care was 
to seek her sisters, and she was sorry to find their own miscon¬ 
duct had caused all their troubles. In the meantime, Rich-craft. 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS. 


93 


passed the night very uncomfortably, and when day came, with 
a great deal of painful struggling, he came to the end of the 
drain, which ran into a river at a considerable distance from the 
castle. He found means to make himself heard by some men 
who were fishing in the river, by whom he was drawn out in 
such a pickle, as raised compassion in those good people. 

He caused himself to be carried to his father’s court to get 
cured ; and this disgrace made him take such a strong hatred 
and aversion to Finetta, that he thought less on his cure than on 
revenge. That princess passed her time very sadly, as her 
sisters continued so ill from their bruises, as to require many 
comforting, nourishing things which she had not the means of 
procuring, and she dreaded much her father’s anger upon finding 
that their distaffs were broken. The cunning Rich-craft guessed' 
all this, and contrived that baskets of cordials and medicines 
should be placed under the window at night, to tempt Finetta to 
come down for them; and though she feared there was some 
trick in it, she was too courageous and generous to let her sisters 
languish for what it was in her power to obtain for them; she, 
therefore, let herself down in the basket, but was no sooner there, 
than Rich-craft’s officers seized hold of her and carried her to a 
country-house, where the prince was, for the recovery of his 
health. When the prince was a little better, he had her taken 
to the top of a high mountain, whither he followed immediately 
after. Here it was that he told her, they were going to put her 
to death. Then that base prince very barbarously showed 
Finetta a barrel stuck in the inside all round with -penknives. 


94 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS. 


razors, and hooked nails, and told her they were going to put her 
into that vessel, and roll her down from the top of the mountain 
into the valley. Though Finetta was no Roman, she was no 
more afraid of the punishment, than Regulus heretofore was at 
the sight of a like destiny. 

Rich-craft bent himself down to look into the barrel, which 
was to be the instrument of his vengeance, to examine if it were 
well provided with all its murdering weapons. Finetta lost no 
time, but very dexterously pushed him into it, and rolled him 
down the mountain, without giving the prince any time to know 
where he was. After this, she ran away, and the prince’s offi¬ 
cers, who had seen after what a cruel manner their master 
would have treated this amiable princess, made not the least at¬ 
tempt to stop her; besides, they were so much frightened at 
what happened to Rich-craft, that they thought of nothing else 
but stopping the barrel, but their endeavours were all in vain ; 
he rolled down to the bottom of the mountain, where they took 
him out wounded in a thousand places. The good king his 
father, and Bel-a-voir his brother, were very unhappy about him, 
as they saw he could not live many days : but Rich-craft, per¬ 
fidious to his last moment, studied how to abuse the tenderness 
of his brother. “ You have always loved me, prince,” cried he, 
“ and I am dying; but if ever I have been dear to you, grant 
this one thing, I beg of you, which I am going to ask of you.” 
Bel-a-voir promised, with the most terrible oaths, to grant him 
whatever he should desire. As soon as Rich-craft heard these 
oaths, he said to his brother, embracing him : “ I die contented. 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS. 


95 


brother, since I am revenged ; for that which I beg of you to do 
for me, is to ask Finetta in marriage, immediately on my decease; 
you will undoubtedly obtain this wicked princess; and the mo¬ 
ment she shall be in your power, plunge your poinard into her 
heart.” 

Bel-a-voir trembled with horror at these words , but he had 
no mind his repentance should be taken notice of by his brother, 
who expired soon after. Finetta, who had returned to her sisters, 
heard soon after of the death of Rich-craft: and some time after 
that, news came to the three princesses, that the king their father 
was come home. This prince came in a hurry to the tower, 
and his first care was to see the distaffs. No one could show 
her’s but Finetta : and the king fell into such a rage against his 
two eldest daughters, that he sent them away to the fairy, who 
had given him the distaffs, desiring her to punish them accord¬ 
ing to their deserts. The fairy gave them plenty of hard work, 
and long lessons to learn. Pratilia was never allowed to talk 
excepting in repeating her lessons. Drona could not help falling 
into despair at leading a life which was so little conformable to 
her inclinations, and died with fatigue and vexation. Pratilia, 
who some time after found means to make her escape by night 
out of the fairy’s castle, broke her scull against a tree, and died 
in the arms of some country people. Finetta’s good-nature made 
ner very sensibly grieve for her sisters’ fate; and in the midst of 
these troubles, she was informed, that prince Bel-a-voir had 
asked her in marriage of the king her father, who had consented 
to it, without giving her any notice thereof. Finetta trembled at 


96 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS. 


this news, and went to consult the sage fairy, who esteemed hex 
as much as she despised Drona and Pratilia. 

The fairy only said to her: “ Princess, you are sage and pru¬ 
dent ; you would not hitherto have taken such measures for your 
conduct, had you not always borne in mind, that distrust is the 
mother of security.” Some days after, the princess was married, 
by an ambassador, in the name of Prince Bel-a-voir, and she set 
out to go to her spouse in a magnificent equipage. When Bel- 
a-voir saw her, he was struck with her charms; but made hex 
his compliments in a very confused manner. Finetta, who was 
always thinking on the maxim which the fairy had revived in her 
mind, had a design in her head. This princess had gained over 
one of the women, who had the key of the closet belonging to 
the apartment which was designed for her; and she had privately 
given orders to that woman to carry into the closet some straw, 
a bladder filled with sheep’s blood, and the entrails of some 
of those animals which had been dressed for supper. The prin¬ 
cess, on some pretence, went into that closet and made a puppet 
of the straw, into which she put the entrails and the bladder full 
of blood • after that, she dressed it up in a woman’s night-clothes. 
When Finetta had finished this puppet, she returned to her com¬ 
pany, where she supped with the prince; and after some time, 
they conducted the princess and her spouse to their apartment. 
When they had allowed as much time at the toilet as was ne¬ 
cessary, the ladies of honour .took away the flambeaux, and 
retired. Finetta immediately threw the image of straw upon the 
bed, and went and hid herself in one of the corners of the chamber. 


THE DISCREET PRINCESS. 


97 


The prince, having sighed three or four times very loud, drew 
his sword, and ran it through the body of the pretended Finetta; 
at the same instant, he found the blood trickle all about, and the 
straw wife without motion. “ Alas ! what have I done ?” cried 
Bel-a-voir; “ what, after so many cruel conflicts ! could any one 
so much as dream to punish a woman for having too much vir¬ 
tue. Well, Rich-craft, I have satisfied thy unjust vengeance; 
but now I will revenge Finetta in her turn, by my death. 

Yes, beautiful princess, my sword shall-” by these words, 

the princess, understanding that the prince, who in his transport 
let fall his sword, was feeling for it, in order to thrust it through 
his body, was resolved he should not be guilty of such a folly, 
and therefore, cried out: “ My prince, I am not dead ; the good¬ 
ness of your disposition made me divine your repentance, and by 
an innocent cheat, I have hindered you from committing the 
worst of crimes.” 

Upon which she related to Bel-a-voir the foresight she had in 
relation to the figure of straw. The prince, all transported to 
find Finetta alive, admired the prudence she was mistress of on 
all occasions ; and tenderly embracing her, renewed his vows of 
unalterable affection. Soon after, they became king and queen, 
uid long, happy, and glorious was their reign. 





THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 


great many years ago there lived in the county 
of Norfolk a gentleman and his lady. The 
gentleman was brave, kind, and of a noble 
spirit; and the lady was gentle, beautiful, anu 
virtuous. They were very much loved by all 
who knew them; for they were always trying 
to do service to every body who came near them, or who had any 
thing at all to do with them. This lady and gentleman lived 
together very happily for many years, for they loved each other 
most tenderly. They had two children, who were as yet very 



98 









THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 


99 


young; for the eldest, who was a boy, was about three years old, 
and the youngest, who was a girl, not quite two years old. The 
boy was very much like his father, and the girl was like her 
mother. By the end of this time the gentleman fell sick, and 
day after day he grew worse. His lady, as I have said, loved 
him with the greatest fondness ; and she was so much grieved 
by his illness that she fell sick too. No physic, nor any thing 
else, was of the least use to them, for their illness got worse and 
worse, and they saw that they should soon be taken away from 
their two little babes, and be forced to leave them in the world' 
without a father or mother. They bore this cruel thought as 
well as they could, and trusted that after they were dead, their 
children would find some kind friend or another to bring them up. 
They talked to one another tenderly about them, and at last 
agreed to send for the gentleman’s brother, and give their darlings 
into his care. 

As soon as ever the gentleman’s brother heard this news, he 
made all the haste he could to the bedside where the father and 
mother were lying sick. “ Ah ! brother,” said the dying man, 
“you see how short a time I can expect to live: yet neither 
death, nor pain, can give me half so much grief as I feel at the 
thought of what these dear babes will do without a parent’s care. 
Brother, brother,” continued the gentleman, putting out his hand 
as well as he could, and pointing to the children, “ they will 
have none but you to be kind to them; none but you to see them 
clothed and fed, and teach them to be good and happy.”—“ Dear, 
dear brother,” said the dying lady, “ you must be father, mother. 


100 


THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 


and uncle too, to these lovely little lambs. First let William be 
taught to read; and then he should be told how good his father 
was. And little Jane—Oh! brother, it wrings my heart to talk 
of her: think of the gentle usage she will stand in need of, and 
take her fondly on your knee, brother, and she and William too 
will repay your care with love.” 

The uncle then answered: “ Oh ! how it grieves my heart to 
see you, my dearest brother and sister, in this sad state ! but take 
comfort, there may still be hope of your getting well: yet, if we 
should happen to lose you, I will do all you can desire for your 
darling children. In me they shall find a father, mother, and 
uncle. William shall learn to read ; and shall be often told how 
good his father was, that he may turn out as good himself when 
he grows up to be a man. Jane shall be used with the most 
tender care, and shall be kindly fondled on my knee. But, dear 
brother, you have said nothing of the riches you must leave be¬ 
hind. I am sure you know my heart too well to think that I 
speak of this for any other reason than your dear children’s good, 
and that I may be able to make use of all your money only for 
their sake.”—“ Pray, brother,” said the dying man, “ do not 
grieve me with talking of any such thing; for how could you, 
who will be their father, mother, and uncle too, once think of 
wronging them ? Here, here, brother, is my will. You will see 
how I have done the best I could for my babes.” A few moments 
after the gentleman had said these words, he pressed his cold 
lips to his children; the lady did the same, and in a short time 
they both died. The uncle shed a few tears at this sad sight, 


THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD 


103 


and then broke open the will; in which he found that his brother 
had left the little boy, William, the sum of three hundred pounds 
a year, when he should be twenty-one years old, and to Jane, the 
girl, the sum of five hundred pounds in gold, to be paid her the 
day of her being married. But if the children should happen 
to die before coming of age, then all the money was to belong to 
their uncle. The will of the gentleman next ordered that he and 
his dear wife should be buried side by side in the same grave. 

The two little children were now taken home to the house of 
their uncle; who, for some time, did just as their parents had so 
lately told him upon their death-bed; and so he used them with 
great kindness. But when he had kept them about a year, he 
forgot by degrees to think how their father and mother looked 
when they gave their children to his care, and how he himself 
had made a promise to be their father, mother, and uncle all in 
one. After a little more time had passed, the uncle could not 
help thinking that he wished the little boy and girl would die, for 
then he should have all their money for himself; and when he 
had once begun to think this, he went on till he could hardly 
think of any thing else. At last he said to himself: “ It would 
not be very hard for me to kill them so as for nobody to know 
any thing about the matter, and then the money will be mine at 
once.” When the cruel uncle had once brought his mind to kill 
the helpless little creatures, he was not long in finding a way to 
bring it about. He hired two sturdy ruffians, who had already 
killed many travellers, in a dark thick wood, some way off, for 
the sake of robbing them of their money. These two wicked 


102 


THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD, 


creatures now agreed with the uncle, for a large sum of money, to 
do the most cruel deed that ever yet was heard of; and so the 
uncle began to get every thing ready for them. He told an art¬ 
ful story to his wife, of what good it would do to the children to 
put them forward in their learning; and how he had a friend in 
London who would take care of them. He then said to the poor 
little things: “ Should you not like, my pretty ones, to see the 
famous town of London; where you, William, can buy a fine 
wooden horse to ride upon all day long, and a whip to make him 
gallop, and a fine sword to wear by your side ? And you, Jane, 
shall have pretty frocks, and dolls, and many other pretty play¬ 
things ; and a nice gilded coach shall be got to take you there.” 
—“ Oh yes, I will go, uncle,” said William. “ Oh yes, I will 
go, uncle,” said Jane : and the uncle, with a heart as hard as 
stone, soon got them ready for the journey. The harmless little 
creatures were put into a fine coach a few days after; and along 
with them the two cruel wretches, who were soon to put an end 
to their merry prattle, and turn their smiles into tears. One of 
them drove the coach, and the other sat inside between little 
William and little Jane. 

When they had reached the entrance to the dark thick wood, 
the two ruffians took them out of the coach, telling them they 
might now walk a little way and gather some flowers ; and while 
the children were skipping about like lambs, the ruffians turned 
their backs to them, and began to talk about what they had to 
do. “ In good truth,” said the one who had been sitting between 
the children all the way, “ now I have seen their sweet faces, 


THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 


103 


and heard their pretty talk, I have no heart to do the cruel deed: 
let. us fling away the ugly knife, and send the children back to 
their uncle.”—“ But, indeed, I will not,” said the other : “ what 
is their pretty talk to us ?”—“ Think of your own children at 
home,” answered the first. “ Yes, but I shall get nothing to take 
back to them, if I turn coward as you would have me do,” re¬ 
plied the other. At last, the two ruffians fell into such a great 
passion about killing the poor babes, that the one who wished to 
spare their lives took out the great knife he had brought to mur¬ 
der them, and stabbed the other to the heart, so that he fell down 
dead at his feet. The one who had killed him was quite at a loss 
what to do with the children; for he wanted to get away as fast 
as he could, for fear of being found in the wood. At last, he 
thought the only thing he could do was, to leave them in the 
wood by themselves, and trust them to the kindness of any bodjr 
that might happen to pass by and find them there. “ Come here, 
my pretty ones,” sa^id he ; “ you must take hold of my hands and 
go a little way along with me.” The poor children took each a 
hand, and went on ; but the tears burst from their eyes, and their 
little limbs shook with fear all the while. In this way he led 
them for about two miles further on in the wood, and then told 
them to wait there till he came back from the next town, where 
he would go and get them some food. William took his sister 
Jane by the hand, and they walked in fear up and down 
the wood. “Will the strange man come with some cakes, 
Billy?” said little Jane. “ By-and-by, dear Jane,” said William: 
and soon after, “ I wish I had some cakes, Billy,” said she. 


104 


THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 


They then looked about with their little eyes to every part of the 
wood; and it would have melted a heart as hard as stone, to see 
how sad they looked, and how they listened to every sound of 
wind in the trees. After they had waited a very long time, they 
tried to fill their bellies with blackberries; but they soon ate all 
that were within their reach. Night was now coming on : and 
William who had tried all he could to comfort his little sister, at 
last, wanted comfort himself: so when Jane said once more, “ How 
hungry I am, Billy, I b-e-l-ieve—I cannot help crying,”—William 
burst out a-crying too ; and down they lay upon the cold earth ; 
and putting their arms round each other’s neck, there they starved, 
and there they died. 

Thus were these two pretty harmless babes murdered ; and as 
no one knew of their deaths, so there was no one to dig a grave 
and bury them. In the meantime, the wicked uncle thought 
they had been killed as he ordered, so he told all the folks who 
asked him about them, an artful tale of their having died in Lon¬ 
don of the smallpox; and he then took all their fortune to him¬ 
self, and lived upon it as if it had been his own by good right. 
But all this did him very little service; for soon after his wife 
died; and as he could not help being very unhappy, and was 
always thinking, too, that he saw the bleeding children before his 
eyes, he did not attend at. all to his affairs ; so that, instead of 
growing richer, he grew poorer every day. Besides this, his 
two sons had gone on board a ship to try their fortune abroad, but 
they both were drowned at sea, and he became quite wretched, 
so that his life was a burden to him. When things had gone on 


THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 


105 


in this manner for some years, the ruffian, who took pity on the 
children and would not kill them, robbed, some person in that very 
wood; and being pursued, he was laid hold of and brought to 
prison, and soon after, was tried before a judge and was found 
guilty; so that he was condemned to be hanged for the crime 
As soon as he found what his death must be, he sent for the keeper 
of the prison, and owned to him all the crimes he had been 
guilty of in his whole life. 

Thus he made known the story of the two children; and, at 
the same time, told what part of the wood he had left them to 
starve in. The news of this matter soon reached the uncle’s ears; 
who was already broken-hearted for the many ills that had hap¬ 
pened to himself, and could not bear the load of public shame 
that he knew must now fall upon him, so he lay down upon his 
bed, and died that very day. As soon as ever the tidings of the 
death of the two children were made public, proper persons were 
sent to search the wood for them; and, after a great deal of 
trouble, the pretty babes were at last found, stretched in each 
other’s arms; with William’s arm round the neck of Jane, his 
face turned close to hers, and his frock pulled over her body. 
They were quite covered with leaves, which in all that time had 
never withered; and on a bush near this cold grave, there sat a 
robin-redbreast, watching and chirping; so that many gentle 
hearts, still think it was this kind bird that did bring the leaves 
and cover the little babes over with them. 



THE THREE WISHES. 



^Nhere was once a man, not very rich, who had 
a pretty woman to his wife. One winter’s 
evening, as he sat by the fire, they talked of 
the happiness of their neighbours, who were 
richer than they. Said the wife “ If it were 
m my power to have what I wish, I should soon be happier than 
all of them.”—“ So should I, too,” said the husband ; “ I wish 
we had fairies now, and that one of them was kind enough to 
grant me what I should ask.” At that instant, they saw a very 
beautiful lady in their room, who told them: “ L am a fairy ; and 


ioc> 


















THE THREE WISHES. 


107 


I promise to grant you the three first wishes you shall wish; 
but, take care . after having wished for three things, I will not 
grant one wish further.” The fairy disappeared; and the man 
and his wife were much perplexed. “For my own part,” said 
the wife, “ if it is left to my choice, I know very well what I 
shall wish for: I do not wish yet, but I think nothing is so good 
as to be handsome, rich, and to be of great quality.” But the 
husband answered: “ With all these things, one may be sick, 
fretful, and one may die young : it would be much wdser to wish 
for health, cheerfulness, and a long life.”—“ But to what purpose 
is a long life with povertysaid the wife : “ it would only pro¬ 
long our misery. In truth, the fairy should have promised us a 
dozen of gifts, for there is at least a dozen of things which I 
want.”—“ That’s true,” said the husband; “ but let us take time; 
let us consider, from this time till morning, the three things which 
are most necessary for us, and then wish.”—“ I’ll think all night,” 
said the wife ; “ meanwhile, let us warm ourselves, for it is very 
cold.” At the same time the wife took the tongs to mend the fire ; 
and seeing there were a great many coals thoroughly lighted, she 
said, without thinking on it: “ Here’s a nice fire; I wish we had 
a pudding for our supper, we could dress it easily.” She had 
hardly said these words, when down the chimney came tumbling 
a pudding. “ O, you silly woman,” said her husband ; “ here’s a 
fine wish, indeed! Now we have only two left; for my part, I 
am so vexed, that I wish the pudding fast to the tip of your nose.” 

The man soon perceived that he was sillier than his wife ; for, 
at this second wish, up starts the pudding, and sticks so fast to 


108 


THE THREE WISHES. 


the tip of his poor wife’s nose, there was no means to take it off 
“ Wretch that I am !” cried she; “ you are a wicked man for 
wishing the pudding fast to my nose.”—“ My dear,” answered 
the husband, “ I did not think of it; but what shall we do ? I 
am about wishing for vast riches, and propose to make a golden 
case to hide the pudding.”—“ Not at all,” answered the wife; “ for 
T should kill myself, were I to live with this pudding dangling at 
my nose : be persuaded, we have still a wish to make; leave it 
to me, or I shall instantly throw myself out of the window.” 
With this she ran and opened the window; but her husband, 
who loved his wife, called out: “ Hold, my dear wife, I give you 
leave to*wish for what you will.”—“Well,” said the wife, “my 
wish is, that this pudding may drop off.” At that instant, the 
pudding dropped off; and the wife who did not want wit, said to 
her husband : “ The fairy has imposed upon us : she was in the 
right; possibly we should have been more unhappy with riches, 
than we are at present. Believe me, friend, let us wish for 
nothing, and take things as it shall please God to send them: 
in the meantime, let us sup upon our pudding, since that’s all 
lhat remains to us of our wishes.” The husband thought his 
wife judged right; they supped merrily, and never gave them¬ 
selves farther trouble about the things which they had designed 
to wish for 




PRINCE CHERRY 


here was one time a king who was so excellent 
a man that his subjects named him “ The 
Good.” One day while he was hunting, a 
small white rabbit, which the hounds were 
upon the point of killing, sprang into his arms. 
The king caressed the little rabbit, and said: “ Since she has 
placed herself under my protection, I will not permit her to suffer 
any injury.” He carried her home to his palace, and gave her a 
very pretty little house, and plenty to eat. In the night, when he 
was alone in his chamber, there appeared to him a beautiful lady 



109 















no 


PRINCE CHERRY. 


She was not dressed in silver or gold, but her robe was as wmte 
as snow, and instead of a cap, she wore upon her head a crown 
of white roses. The good king was astonished at sight of the 
lady, for his door was shut, and he could not conceive how she 
had entered. She said to him : “ I am the fairy Candide ; I was 
passing by in the woods while you were hunting, and I wished 
to know if you were as good as every body said you were; for 
this purpose, I assumed the form of a little white rabbit, and was 
saved in your arms, for I knew that those who had compassion 
. for animals, had still more for men; but if you had refused me 
your protection, I would have ever afterwards believed you to be 
a wicked man. I come to thank you for the good action you 
have done, and to assure you, I shall always be of the number of 
your friends. You have but to ask of me whatever you wish, 
and I promise to grant it.” 

“ Madam,” said the good king, “ since you are a fairy, you 
ought to know all that I wish; I have but one son, the prince 
Cherry, whom I dearly love : if you have any kindness for me, 
become the friend of my son.”—“With all my heart,” said the 
fairy; “ I can make your son the most beautiful prince in the 
world, or the richest, or the most powerful; choose whichever 
you wish.”—“ I desire nothing of that sort for my son,” replied 
the good king; “ but I will be very much obliged to you, if you 
will render him the best of princes; what use will it be to him 
to be handsome, rich, or master of all the kingdoms in the world ? 
So long as he is wicked, you know well that he will be unhappy, 
for there is nothing but virtue that can bestow contentment.” 


PRINCE CHERRY. 


113 


“ You reason well,” said Candida; “but it is not in my power to 
make the prince Cherry a good man in spite of himself; he must 
himself labour to become virtuous; all that I can promise you, 
is to give him good advice, to reproach him with his faults, and 
to punish him if he will not correct them himself.” 

The good king was completely satisfied with this promise, and 
died a while after. Prince Cherry mourned greatly for his father, 
for he loved him with all his heart, and would have willingly 
given all his kingdoms, his gold and his silver, to have saved him, 
if these things had been able to change the decrees of fate. Two 
days after the death of his father, while Cherry was lying on his 
couch, Candide appeared to him. “ I have promised your father,” 
said she to him, “ to be one of your friends, and to keep my 
word, I have come to make you a present;” at the same time 
she placed on the finger of Cherry, a small gold ring, and 
said to him, “ take good care of this ring; it is more precious 
than diamonds ; every time that you do a bad action, it will prick 
your finger; but if, in spite of its pricking, you continue this bad 
conduct, you will lose my friendship, and I will become your 
enemy.” Finishing with these words, Candide disappeared, and 
left Cherry very much astonished. Fie was for some time so 
discreet, that the ring never pricked him once, and this pleased 
him so much that he added to his former name of Cherry, that 
of the “ Happy.” Some time afterwards he went a hunting, and 
having caught nothing, he fell into a bad humour, it appeared 
then to him, that his ring slightly pressed his finger; but as it 
did not prick him, he paid it scarce any attention. Returning to 


112 


PRINCE CHERRY. 


his chamber, his little dog Bibi came jumping upon him to ca¬ 
ress him, but he said: “ Get away; I am not in the humour to 
receive your caresses.” The poor little dog, who did not under¬ 
stand him, pulled him by his dress to oblige him at least to look 
at him. This put Cherry completely out of temper, who gave 
him a severe kick. At this moment, the ring pricked him as if 
it had been a pin; he was very much ashamed, and sat down 
grieved in one corner of his room. He thought to himself: “ I 
believe the fairy is mocking me; what great wrong have I done 
in giving a kick to a troublesome animal ? What advantage is 
it to me to be master of a great empire, if I am not at liberty to 
beat my own dog ?” 

“ I am not mocking you,” said a voice, which replied to the 
thought of Cherry. “ You have committed three faults instead 
of one. You have been bad humoured because you cannot bear 
contradiction, and because you think that men and beasts were 
born to obey you. You fell into a rage, which is still worse; 
and, besides, you have been cruel to a poor animal, who deserved 
not to be abused. I know that you are far superior to a dog; but 
if it were right and allowable for the great to maltreat all who 
are below them, I could at this moment beat you, yes, kill you, 
since a fairy is greater than a prince. The advantage of being 
master of a great empire, consists not in doing evil when one 
wishes, but in effecting all the good we are able.” Cherry ac 
knowledged his fault, and promised to amend, but he kept not his 
word. He had been brought up by a foolish nurse, who had in¬ 
dulged him when he was little; if he wished to have any thing, 


PRINCE CHERRY 


113 


he had but to cry, to be petful, and to stamp his foot, and this 
woman gave him every thing that he asked for; this had made 
him self-willed; she told him also from morning to night, that he 
was to be one day a king, and that kings were very happy be¬ 
cause every body was obliged to obey them, to treat them with 
respect, and no one was allowed to hinder them from doing 
whatever they wished. When Cherry had grown to be a large 
boy, he soon found out that there was nothing so wrong as to be 
proud, irascible, and obstinate. He made some efforts to correct 
himself, but these faults had become habits, and nothing is more 
difficult to overcome than evil habits. It was not that he had 
naturally a bad heart. He cried through vexation when he had 
committed a fault, and said: “ I am very unfortunate to have to 
contend all the time with my anger and my pride ; if they had 
corrected me when I was young, I should have been spared all 
this trouble now.” His ring pricked him very often; sometimes 
he stopped himself all of a sudden, at others, he continued on, 
and what was very singular, it pricked him but slightly for a 
small fault, but when he was wicked, the blood gushed from his 
finger. At last, this became insupportable, and wishing to be 
bad at his ease, he cast aside his ring. He thought himself the 
happiest of men, when he found himself freed from these prick 
mgs; he gave himself up to all sorts of wickedness that he felt 
disposed to, so that he became odious to every one. 

One day, while Cherry was taking a walk, he saw a young 
woman who was so beautiful that he resolved to marry her. Her 
name was Zelia, and she was as wise as she was handsome 


114 


PRINCE CHERRY 


Cherry believed that Zelia would think herself very happy in 
becoming a great queen, but this girl said to him, with the greatest 
frankness : “ Sir, I am but a peasant girl; I have no fortune, but 
for all that, I will not marry you.’ —“ Is my appearance dis¬ 
pleasing to you ?” asked Cherry, with a slight emotion. “ No, no 
prince,” replied Zelia to him : “ I see you as you are ; that is t. 
say, very handsome; but of what use will be to me your beauty, 
your wealth, the fine dresses, the splendid carriages, you will 
give me, if the wicked actions I see you every day commit, 
oblige me to despise and hate you ?” Cherry became very angry 
at Zelia, and commanded his attendants to carry her by force to 
the palace. He kept thinking all the day of the contempt which 
this girl had exhibited towards him, but as he was truly in love 
with her, he could not resolve to maltreat her. Among the fa¬ 
vourites of Cherry, was a fosterbrother, on whom he had be¬ 
stowed all his confidence. This man, whose inclinations were as 
base as was his birth, flattered the passions of his master, and 
gave him the very worst advice As he noticed that Cherry was 
quite sad, he asked of him the cause of "his uneasiness. The 
prince replied to him, that he could not bear the contempt of 
Zelia, and that he was resolved to correct his defects, since it 
was only by being virtuous that he could please her This 
wicked man said to him : “You are very good to put yourself to 
all this trouble for a young girl; if I were m your place, I would 
compel her to obey me. Recollect that you are a king, and that 
it would be scandalous for you to submit to the will of a peasant 
girl, who ought to be too happy to be received among your 


PRINCE CHERRY. 


115 


slaves , make her live upon bread and water, place her m a dun¬ 
geon, and if she still refuses to marry you, torture her to death, 
to teach others to yield to your wishes. You would be utterly 
disgraced, if it came to be known that a simple girl could resist 
you, and your subjects would forget that they were born to obey 
you ”—“ But,” said Cherry, “ would I not be disgraced if I put 
to death this innocent girl, for in truth Zelia is guilty of no crime ?” 
—“ No one is innocent, who refuses to do your bidding,” replied 
the confidant. “ But I will suppose that you commit an act of 
injustice; it is much better you should be accused of that, than 
that you should teach the people it is sometimes permitted them 
to fail in their respect for you, and contradict you.” The courtier 
attacked Cherry on his weak side, and the fear of seeing his au¬ 
thority lessened, made such an impression on the king, that he 
stifled the good emotions which prompted him to amend; he 
resolved to go that very evening to the chamber of the country 
girl, and to abuse her if she still continued to refuse him. The 
fosterbrother of Cherry, who feared, lest he should repent, col¬ 
lected three young lords as wicked as himself, to hold a revel 
with the king ; they supped together, and they took good care to 
overthrow the reason of the king, by causing him to drink ex¬ 
cessively. 

During supper, they excited his anger against Zelia, and made 
him so ashamed of his weakness for her, that he got up in a fury, 
swearing that he would go and make her obedient, or that, on the 
morrow, he would sell her for a slave. 

Cherry, on entering the room where the girl had been confined, 


(16 


PRINCE CHERRY 


was very much surprised at not finding her, for he had kept the 
key in his pocket; he fell into a frightful rage, and took an oath 
to be revenged upon all whom he suspected to have aided in her 
escape. His confidants hearing him speak thus, resolved to take 
advantage of his indignation, and effect the destruction of a noble¬ 
man who had formerly been the preceptor of Cherry. This 
honourable man had sometimes taken the liberty of informing the 
king of his faults, for he loved him as though he had been his 
own son ; at first, Cherry thanked him, then he became impatient 
at being opposed, and finally, he thought that it was from a spirit 
of contradiction that his preceptor found fault, while every other 
person was full of his praises. He then gave him orders to quit 
the court, but in spite of the orders, he acknowledged frequently 
that he was an honourable man, that he did not love him, out 
that in spite of himself he was obliged to esteem him. The con¬ 
fidants were always in fear lest the king should take a fancy to 
recall his governor, and they now thought they had found a favour¬ 
able opportunity to make way with him. They made the king be¬ 
lieve that Suliman (for this was the name of this worthy man) 
had boasted of giving liberty to Zelia; three men, bribed with 
presents, declared that they had heard Suliman say so himself, 
and the prince transported with rage, commanded his foster- 
brother to send soldiers to bring before him his governor in chains. 
After giving these orders, Cherry retired to his chamber; but 
scarcely had he entered, when the earth shook, he heard a loud 
clap of thunder, and Candide appeared before his eyes “ I 
promised your father,” said she, in a severe tone, “ to give you 


PRINCE CHERRY 


117 


my advice, and to punish you if you refused to follow it* You 
have despised this advice, you have preserved but the figure of a 
man, while your crimes have changed you into a monster the 
dread of heaven and earth. It is time by punishing you I fulfil 
my promise. I condemn you to become like the beasts whose 
inclinations you have assumed. You will resemble the lion for 
your rage, the wolf for your gluttony, the serpent for destroying 
him who has been a second father to you, and the bull for your bru¬ 
tality. Carry in your new figure the marks of all these animals.” 
Scarcely had the fairy ended these words, when Cherry saw 
himself with horror to be what she had wished; he had the head 

of a lion, the horns of a bull, the feet of a wolf, and the tail of a 

£ 

viper. At the same time, he found himself in a vast forest, upon 
the margin of a fountain, where he saw his horrible figure, and 
heard a voice saying to him: “ Observe attentively the state to 
which you are reduced by your crimes ; your soul is a hundred 
times more deformed than your body.” Cherry recognised the 
voice of Candide, and in his madness he turned suddenly round 
to spring upon and devour her; but he saw no one, and the same 
voice said to him : “ I laugh at your itnpotent rage. I am about 
still further to mortify your pride, by putting you in the power 
of your own subjects.” 

Cherry thought that m removing from this fountain, he should 
find relief from his evils, since he would no longer have before 
his eyes his hideousness and deformity; he plunged then into 
the woods, but scarcely had he advanced a few steps befo|jfc he 
fell into a pit, which had been dug for taking bears, while at the 


i 18 


PRINCE CHERRY 


same instant, the hunters who were concealed beneath the trees, 
descended into the pit, and having put him in chains, carried him 
A to the capital of his kingdom. On the way, instead of acknow¬ 
ledging himself justly chastised for his faults, he cursed the fairy, 
hi 1 ; his chains, and gave way to the utmost ferocity When they 
P came near the city whither they were taking him, he observed 
great rejoicings, and the hunters having asked what had hap¬ 
pened so recently, were told that the prince Cherry, whose only 
pleasure consisted in annoying his people, had been destroyed 
in his chamber by a stroke of lightning, (for thus they believed), 
“ the gods, (added their informers,) no longer being able to endure 
the excess of his cruelties, had rid the earth of him. Four lords, 
accomplices in his crimes, thought to profit by them, and divide 
the empire among themselves, but the people who knew that 
their bad advice had ruined the king; tore them in pieces, and 
had offered the crown to Suliman whom the wicked Cherry had 
wished to destroy. This worthy nobleman is about to be crowned, 
and we are celebrating this day, as that of the deliverance of the 
kingdom, for he is virtuous ana*''is about to restore to us peace 
and abundance.” Cherry writhed with rage, hearing language 
like this, but he was still worse off when he came to the public 
square before his palace; he saw Suliman upon a splendid 
throne, and a whole people wishing him a long life, to repair the 
evils they had suffered under his predecessor. Suliman made a 
sign with his hand to ask silence, and said to the people * “I ac- 
ceptjhe crown which you have offered me, but it is to preserve 
it for Prince Cherry He is is not dead, as you believe ; a fairy 


PRO CE CHERRY 


119 


has taken him away, and perhaps some day he will return to you 
as virtuous as he was in his earlier years. Alas !” continued he, 
shedding tears, “ flatteries have seduced him; I knew his heart, 
it was formed for virtue, and had it not been for the impoisoned 
discourses of those who surrounded him, he had been a father to 
all of us ; but let us lament him, and beseech the gods that they 
restore him to us; as for myself, I would esteem myself too 
happy to moisten the throne with my blood, could I see him re¬ 
ascend it in a temper worthily to fulfil its duties.” The words 
of Suliman went to the heart of Cherry. He then saw the at¬ 
tachment and fidelity of this man had been sincere, and, for the 
first time, reproached himself with his crimes. Scarcely had he 
felt this good emotion, than he began to perceive his passion de¬ 
cline ; he reflected upon all the evil actions of his life, and found 
that he was not punished-as severely as he deserved ; he ceased 
then to beat himself against the iron cage in which he was 
chained, and became as mild as a lamb. They carried him to 
the menagerie, where they kept ^11 kinds of strange animals and 
wild beasts, and placed him with the rest. 

Cherry then resolved, to begin repairing his faults, by showing 
himself obedient to his keeper; this man was brutal in his tem¬ 
per, and although Cherry was very gentle, whenever he was in a 
bad humour, he beat him without cause. One day, when this 
man was asleep, a tiger, who had broken his chain, rushed upon 
him ; then Cherry felt an emotion of pleasure in seeing himself 
about being delivered from his persecutor, but he quickly re¬ 
proached himself, and wished to be free “ I would return good 


120 


PRINCE CHERRY 


for evil, by saving the life of this unfortunate man.” Scarcely 
had he formed this wish, when he saw his cage open; he sprang 
to the side of the man who had awaked, and was struggling with 
the tiger; the keeper gave himself up for lost, when he saw the 
monster, but his fear was soon changed into joy ; the beneficent 
monster threw himself upon the tiger, strangled him, and after¬ 
wards lay down at the feet of the person he came to save. The 
man, deeply impressed with gratitude, wished to caress the mon¬ 
ster who had rendered him so great service; but he heard a 
voice, saying to him: “ A good action never goes unrewarded,” 
and at the same instant, he saw nothing but a handsome dog at 
his feet. Cherry, delighted at this change, played a thousand 
gambols round his master, who took him in his arms and carried 
him to the king, to whom he related the wonder. The queen 
wished to have the dog, and Cherry would have found himself 
happy in his new condition, if he could have forgotten that he 
was a man, and a king. The queen loaded him with caresses, 
but from a dread lest he should become fatter than he was, she 
consulted her family physician, who told her she should feed him 
only on bread, and of that she should give him but a limited quan 
tity. Poor Cherry was dying of hunger half the time, but he 
was obliged to have patience. 

One day, after they had given him a small piece of bread for 
breakfast, the fancy took him of going and eating it in the garden 
of the palace ; he took it in his mouth, and proceeded towards a 
canal, he recollected, that was not afar off; he found not this 
canal, but he saw on its site, a large house, whose exterior shone 


PRINCE CHERRY 


121 


with gold and precious stones ; he saw entering a great number 
of men and women, magnificently dressed; within there were 
singing, dancing, and feasting; but all who came out were pale 
thin, covered with sores, and almost entirely naked, for their 
dresses were torn into tatters. Some of them fell down dead as 
soon as they came out, others removed themselves with diffi¬ 
culty from it, others lay reclined upon the bare ground, dying of 
famine, and asking a morsel of bread of those who were entering 
the house—but they took not the slightest notice of them. 
Cherry approached near a young girl, who was endeavouring to 
pull up some grass to devour it Touched with compassion, the 
prince said to himself: “I have a good appetite, but I shall-not 
die of hunger before dinner time ; and if I give up my breakfast to 
this poor creature, perhaps I shall save her life.’' He determined 
to pursue this good resolve, and he placed his bread into the 
hand of this girl, who carried it to her mouth with avidity. She 
soon appeared entirely restored, and Cherry, overjoyed at having 
assisted her so opportunely, thought of returning to the palace, 
when he heard loud cries; it was Zelia in the hands of four men, 
who were dragging her towards the fine house, which they forced 
her to enter. Cherry then wished for the form of the monster, 
which would have enabled him to assist Zelia, but a weak dog, 
he could only bark at her ravishers, and make efforts to follow 
them ; they drove him off' with kicks, but he resolved not to quit 
the place, until he had found out what had become of Zelia. 

He reproached himself with the misfortunes of this beautiful 
girl. “ Alas !” said he to himself, “ I am enraged at those who 
6 * 


122 


PRINCE CHERRY 


were taking her away; have I not committed the same crime ? 
and if the justice of the gods had not prevented my attempt, 
would I not have treated her with the same indignity 

These reflections of Cherry, were interrupted by a noise above 
his head ; he saw a window open, and his joy was extreme when 
he perceived Zelia, who threw out of the window a plate of 
meat, so well seasoned, that the very sight of it gave him an ap 
petite. She shut the window immediately, and Cherry, who had 
eaten nothing the whole day, thought that he would profit by the 
opportunity. 

He was going to eat of this meat, when the young girl to 
whom he had given his bread, shrieked out, and taking him in 
her arms : “ Poor little fellow,” said she to him, “ touch not this 
meat; this house is the palace of pleasure, all that comes out of 
it is poisoned .” 

At this instant, Cherry heard a voice which said to him : “You 
see that a good action never goes unrewardedand immedi¬ 
ately he was changed into a little white pigeon; he recollected 
that this was the colour of Candide, and began to hope that she 
would at last restore him to her favour ; his first wish was to 
approach Zelia, and rising in the air, he flew around the house; 
he saw with joy that there was one window open, but he traversed 
the house in vam; he could not find he?, and in despair at his 
loss, he resolved never to stop until he had met with her. 

He flew for many days, and having entered a desert, he saw a 
cavern, which he approached. What was his joy! Zelia was 
sitting beside a venerable hermit, and was taking with him a 


PRINCE CHERRY 


123 


frugal repast. Cherry, overjoyed, flew upon the shoulder of the 
charming girl, and expressed by his tenderness, the pleasure he 
took in seeing her. 

Zelia, charmed with the gentleness of the little creature, patted 
it softly with her hand, and although she believed that he could 
not understand her, she told him, that “she accepted the gift 
which he had made of himself, and she would always love him ” 

“ What have you done. Zelia ? ” said the hermit to her; “ you 
have pledged your faith.”—“ Yes, charming Zelia,” said Cherry 
to her, assuming at that moment his natural form, “ the end of my 
metamorphoses was dependant upon your consent to our union, 
you have promised ever to love me ; confirm my happiness, or 1 
shall entreat the fairy Candide, my protectress, to restore me to 
the form under which I had the happiness to please you.” 

“ You have nothing to fear from his inconstancy,” said Candide 
to her, who, quitting the form of a hermit, under which she had 
been concealed, appeared to their eyes such as in reality she 
was; “ Zelia loved you as soon as she saw you, but your vices 
constrained her to conceal from you the partiality you had in¬ 
spired ; the change in your heart allows her to yield to her ten¬ 
derness : you shall live happily, since your union will be based 
upon virtue.” 

Cherry and Zelia cast themselves at the feet of Candide the 
prince never could cease thanking her for her goodness ; and 
Zelia, delighted to hear that the prince detested his errors, con¬ 
firmed her avowal of affection. “Arise, my children,” said the 
fairy ; “ I am about to transport you to your palace, to restore V: 


124 


PRINCE CHERRY 


Cherry a crown, of which, for a time, his vices had rendered him 
unworthy.” 

Scarcely had she ceased speaking, when they found them 
selves in the chamber of Suliman, who, charmed at the return of 
his dear master, once more become virtuous, surrendered to him 
his throne, and remained the most faithful of his subjects. 

Cherry reigned a long time with Zelia, and it is said, that he 
paid such attention to his duties, that the ring which he had re* 
placed upon his finger, never again pricked him a single time so 
as to draw blood 



\ 






BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 


ere was once a very rich merchant, who haa 
six children, three boys and three girls As 
he was himself a man of great sense, he spared 
no expense for their education, but provided 
them with all sorts of masters for their im 
provement. The three daughters were all handsome, but par 
ticularly the youngest. indeed, she was so very beautiful, that m 
her childhood every one called her the Little Beauty, and being 
still the same when she was grown up, nobody called her by any 
other name, which made her sisters very jealous of her. This 

125 

ft 














126 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 


youngest daughter was not only more handsome than her sisters, 
but also was better tempered. The two eldest were vain of 
being rich, and spoke with pride to those they thought below 
them. They gave themselves a thousand airs, and would not 
visit other merchants’ daughters ; nor would they indeed be seen 
with any but persons of quality. They went every day to balls, 
plays, and public walks, and always made game of their youngest 
sister for spending her time in reading, or other useful employ 
ments. As it was well known that these young ladies would 
have large fortunes, many great merchants wished to get them 
for wives ; but the two eldest always answered, that for their 
parts, they had no thoughts of marrying any one below a duke, 
or an earl at least. Beauty had quite as many offers as her sis¬ 
ters, but she always answered with the greatest civility, that she 
was much obliged to her lovers, but would rather live some 
years longer with her father, as she thought herself too young to 
marry. 

It happened that by some unlucky accident, the merchant sud¬ 
denly lost all his fortune, and had nothing left but a small cottage 
in the country. Upon this, he said to his daughters, whilf 1 me 
tears ran down his cheeks all the time : “ My children, we must 
now go and dwell in the cottage, and try to get a living by la 
bour, for we have no other means of support.” The two eldest 
replied, that for their part, they did not know how to work, and 
would not leave town ; for they had lovers enough who would 
be glad to marry them, though they had no longer any fortune. 
But jn this they were mistaken ; for when the lovers heard what 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


127 


had happened, they said : “ The girls were so proud and ill-tem¬ 
pered, that all we wanted was their fortune ; we are not sorry at 
all to see their pride brought down; let them give themselves 
airs to their cows and sheep.” But every body pitied poor 
Beauty, because she was so sweet-tempered and kind to all that 
knew her, and several gentlemen offered to marry her, though 
she had not a penny ; but Beauty still refused, and said, she 
could not think of leaving her poor father in this trouble, and 
would go and help him m his labours m the country. At first 
Beauty could not help sometimes crying in secret for the hard¬ 
ships she was now obliged to suffer; but in a very short time 
she said to herself: “ All the crying in the world will do me no 
good, so I will try to be happy without a fortune.” 

When they had removed to their cottage, the merchant and 
his three sons employed themselves in ploughing and sowing the 
fields, and working in the garden. Beauty also did her part, for 
she got up by four o’clock every morning, lighted the fires, 
cleaned the house, and got the breakfast for the whole family 
At first she found all this very hard ; but she soon grew quite 
used to it, and thought it no hardship at all; and indeed, the 
work greatly amended her health. When she had done, she 
used to amuse herself with reading, playing on her music, or 
singing while she spun. But her two sisters were at a loss what 
to do to pass the time away they had their breakfast m bed, 
and did not rise till ten o’clock. Then they commonly walked 
out; but always found themselves very soon tired; when they 
would often sit down under a shady tree, and grieve for the loss 


L28 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 

of their carriage and fine clothes, and say to each other: “ What a 
mean-spirited, poor, stupid creature our young sister is, to be so con¬ 
tent with our low way of life !” But their father thought in quite 
another way ; he admired the patience of this sweet young crea¬ 
ture ; for her sisters not. only left her to do the whole work of 
the house, but made game of her every moment. 

After they had lived in this manner about a year, the merchant 
received a letter which informed him that one of the richest 
ships, which he thought was lost, had just come into port. This 
news made the two eldest sisters almost mad with joy; for they 
thought they should now leave the cottage, and have all their 
finery again. When they found that their father must take a 
journey to the ship, the two eldest begged he would not fail to 
bring them back some new gowns, caps, rings, and all sorts of 
trinkets. But Beauty asked for nothing; for she thought in 
herself that all the ship was worth would hardly buy every thing 
her sisters wished for. “ Beauty,” said the merchant, “ how 
comes it about that you ask for nothing; what can I bring you, 
my child ?”—“ Since you are so kind as to think of me, dear 
father,” she answered, “ I should be glad if you would bring me 
a rose, for we have none in our garden.” Now Beauty did not 
indeed wish for a rose, nor any thing else, but she only said this, 
that she might not affront her sisters, for else they would have 
said she wanted her father to praise her for not asking him for 
any thing. The merchant took his leave of them, and set out 
on his journey; but when he got to the ship, some persons went 
to law with him about the cargo, and after a deal of trouble, lie 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 


129 


came back to his cottage as poor as he had gone away. When 
he was within thirty miles of his home, and thinking of the joy 
he should have in again meeting his children, his road lay through 
a thick forest, and he quite lost himself. It rained and snowed 
very hard, and besides, the wind was so high as to throw him 
twice from his horse. Night came on, and he thought to be 
sure he should die of cold and hunger, or be torn to pieces by 
the wolves that he heard howling round him. All at once, he 
now cast his eyes towards a long row of trees, and saw a light 
at the end of them, but it seemed a great way off. He made the 
best of his way towards it, and found that it came from a fine 
palace, lighted all over. He walked faster, and soon reached 
the gates, which he opened, and was very much surprised that 
he did not see a single person or creature in any of the yards 
His horse had followed him, and finding a stable with the door 
open, went into it at once ; and here the poor beast, being nearly 
starved, helped himself to a good meal of oats and hay. His 
master then tied him up, and walked towards the house, which 
he entered, but still without seeing a living creature. He went 
on to a large hall, where he found a good fire, and a table cov¬ 
ered with some very nice dishes, and only one plate with a knife 
and fork. As the snow and ram had wetted him to the skin, he 
went up to the fire to dry himself. “I hope,” said he, “the 
master of the house or his servants will excuse me, for to be sure 
it will not be long now before I see them.” He waited a good 
time, but still nobody came : at last the clock struck eleven, and 
the merchant, being quite faint for the want of food, helped him- 


130 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 


self to a chicken, which he made but two mouthfuls of, and then 
to a few glasses of wine, yet all the time trembling with fear. 
He sat till the clock struck twelve, but did not see a single crea 
ture. He now took courage, and began to think of looking a 
little more about him , so he opened a door at the end of the hall, 
and went through it into a very grand room, in which there was 
a fine bed ; and as he was quite weak and tired, he shut the door 
took off his clothes, and got into it. 

It was ten o’clock in the morning before he thought of getting 
up, when he was amazed to see a handsome new suit of clothes 
laid ready for him, instead of his own, which he had spoiled. 
“To be sure,” said he to himself, “ this place belongs to some 
good fairy, who has taken pity on my ill luck.” He looked out 
of the window, and, instead of snow, he saw the most charming 
arbours, covered with all kinds of flowers. He returned to the 
hall, where he had supped, and found a breakfast table, with 
some chocolate got ready for him “ Indeed, my good fairy,” 
said the merchant aloud, “ I am vastly obliged to you for your 
kind care of me.” He then made a hearty breakfast, took his 
hat, and was going to the stable to pay his horse a visit; but as 
he passed under one of the arbours, which was loaded with roses, 
he thought of what Beauty had asked him to bring back to her, 
and so he took a bunch of roses to carry home. At the same 
moment he heard a most shocking noise, and saw such a fright¬ 
ful beast coming towards him, that he was ready to drop with 
fear. “ Ungrateful man!” said the beast, m a terrible voice, “ I 
have saved your life by letting you into inv palace, and m return 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


131 


you steal my roses, which I value more than any thing else that 
belongs to me. But you shall make amends for your fault with 
your life • you shall die in a quarter of an hour.” The merchant 
fell on his knees to the beast, and clasping his hands, said: “ My 
lord., I humbly beg your pardon: I did not think it would offend 
you to gather a rose for one of my daughters, who wished to 
have one.”—“ I am not a lord, but a beast,” replied the monster , 
“ I do not like false compliments, but that people should say 
what they think : so do not fancy that you can coax me by any 
such ways You tell me that you have daughters ; now I will 
pardon you, if one of them will agree to come and die instead of 
you. Go : and if your daughters should refuse, promise me that 
you will return yourself in three months.” 

The tender-hearted merchant had no thoughts of letting any 
one of his daughters die instead of him ; but he knew that if he 
seemed to accept the beast’s terms, he should at least have the 
pleasure of seeing them once again. So he gave the beast his 
promise ; and the beast told him he might then set off as soon as he 
liked. “ But,” said the beast, “ I do not wish you to go back 
empty-handed. Go to the room you slept in, and you will find 
a chest there; fill it with just what you like best, and I will get 
it taken to your own house for you.” When the beast had said 
this, he went away; and the good merchant said to himself: “ If 
I must die, yet I shall now have the comfort of leaving my chil¬ 
dren some riches.” He returned to the room he had slept in, 
and found a great many pieces of gold. He filled the chest with 
them to the very brim, locked it, and mounting his horse, left the 


132 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


palace as sorry as he had been glad when he first found it 
The horse took a path across the forest of his own accord, and 
m a few hours they reached the merchant’s house. His children 
came running round him as he got off his horse; but the mer¬ 
chant, instead of kissing them with joy, could not help crying as 
he looked at them. He held in his hand the bunch of roses, 
which he gave to Beauty, saying: “Take these roses, Beauty 
but little do you think how dear they have cost your poor father . 
and then he gave them an account of all that he had seen or 
heard in the palace of the beast. The two eldest sisters now 
began to shed tears, and to lay the blame upon Beauty, who they 
said would be the cause of her father’s death. “ See,” said they, 
“what happens from the pride of the little wretch: why did not 
she ask for fine things as we did ? But, to be sure, miss must 
not be like other people; and though she will be the cause of 
her father’s death, yet she does not shed a tear.”—“ It would be 
of no use,” replied Beauty, “ to weep for the death of my father, 
for he shall not die now. As the beast will accept of one of his 
daughters, I will give myself up to him ; and think myself happy 
in being able at once to save his life, and prove my love for the 
best of fathers.”—“No, sister,” said the three brothers, “you 
shall not die ; we will go in search of this monster, and either he 
or we will perish.”—“Do not hope to kill him,” said the mer¬ 
chant, “ for his power is far too great for you to be able to do 
any such thing. I am charmed with the kindness of Beauty, but 
] will not suffer her life to be lost. I myself am old, and cannot 
expect to live much longer; so I shall but give up a few years 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


133 


of my life, and shall only grieve for the sake of my children ” 
“ Never, father,” cried Beauty, “ shall you go to the palace with¬ 
out me; for you cannot hinder my going after you; though 
young, I am not over fond of life ; and I would much rather be eaten 
up by the monster, than die of the grief your loss would give 
me.” The merchant in vain tried to reason with Beauty, for she 
would go ; which, in truth made her two sisters glad, for they 
were jealous of her, because every body loved her. 

The merchant was so grieved at the thoughts of losing his 
child, that he never once thought of the chest filled with gold, 
but at night, to his great surprise, he found it standing by his 
bedside. He said nothing about his riches to his eldest daugh¬ 
ters, for he knew very well it would at once make them want to 
return to town ; but he told Beauty his secret, and she then said, 
that while he was away, two gentlemen had been on a visit at 
their cottage, who had fallen in love with her two sisters She 
then begged her father to marry them without delay ; for she 
was so sweet-tempered, that she loved them for all they had 
used her so ill, and forgave them with all her heart. When the 
three months were past, the merchant and Beauty got ready to 
set out for the palace of the beast. Upon this, the two sisters 
rubbed their eyes with an onion, to make believe they shed a 
great many tears; but both the merchant and his sons cried m 
earnest: there was only Beauty who did not, for she thought that 
this would only make the matter worse. They reached the 
palace in a very few hours, and the horse, without bidding went 
into the same stable as before The merchant and Beauty 


134 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


walked towards the large hall, where they found a table covered 
with every dainty, and two plates laid ready. The merchant had 
very little appetite; but Beauty, that she might the better hide 
her grief, placed herself at the table, and helped her father; she 
then began herself to eat, and thought all the time that to be sure 
the beast had a mind to fatten her before he ate her up, as he 
had got such good cheer for her When they had done their 
supper, they heard a great noise, and the good old man began to 
bid his poor child farewell, for he knew it was the beast coming 
to them. When Beauty first saw his frightful form, she could 
not help being afraid; but she tried to hide her fear as much as 
she could. The beast asked her if she had come quite of her 
own accord; and though she was now still more afraid than 
before, she made shift to say, “ Y-e-s.”—“ You are a good girl, 
and I think myself very much obliged to you.” He then turned 
towards her father, and said to him : “ Good man, you may leave 
the palace to-morrow morning, and take care never to come back 
to it again. Good night, Beauty.”—“ Good night, beast,” said she ; 
and then the monster went out of the room* 

“ Ah ! my dear child,” said the merchant, kissing his daughter, 
“ I am half dead already, at the thoughts of leaving you with 
this dreadful beast; you had better go back, and let me stay m 
your place.”—“ No,” said Beauty, boldly, “ I will never agree to 
that; you must go home to-morrow morning.” They then wished 
each other good night, and went to bed, both of them thinking 
they shojild not be able to close their eyes; but as soon as ever 
they had laid down, they fell into a deep sleep, and did not wake 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 


135 


til] morning. Beauty dreamed that a lady came up to her, who 
said : “ I am very much pleased, Beauty, with the goodness you 
have shown, in being willing to give your life to save that of 
your father : and it shall not go without a reward.” As soon as 
Beauty awoke, she told her father this dream; but though it 
gave him some comfort, he could not take leave of his darling- 
child without shedding many tears When the merchant got out 
of sight, Beauty sat down in the large hall, and began to cry 
also: yet she had a great deal of courage, and so she soon re¬ 
solved not to make her sad case still worse by sorrow, which she 
knew could not be of any use to her, but to wait as well as she 
could till night, when she thought the beast would not fail to 
come and eat her up. She walked about to take a view of all 
the palace, and the beauty of every part of it much charmed 
her. 

But what was her surprise, when she came to a door on which 
was written, “ Beauty's room /” She opened it in haste, and her 
eyes were all at once dazzled at the grandeur of the inside of 
the room. What made her wonder more than all the rest was, a 
arge library filled with books, a harpsichord, and many other pieces 
of music. “ The beast takes care I shall not be at a loss how to 
amuse myself,” said she. She then thought that it was not likely 
such things would have been got ready for her, if she had but 
one day to live ; and began to hope all would not t&rn out so bad 
as she and her father had feared She opened the library, and 
saw these verses written in letters of gold on the back ot one of 
the books :— 


136 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


“ Beauteous lady, dry your tears, 

Here’s no cause for sighs or fears , 

Command as freely as you may, 

Enjoyment still shall mark your sway.” 

“ Alas !” said she, sighing, “ there is nothing 1 so much desire 
as to see my poor father and to know what he is doing at this 
moment.” She said this to herself; but just then, by chance, she 
cast her eyes on a looking-glass that stood near her, and in the 
glass she saw her home, and her father riding up to the cottage 
in the deepest sorrow. Her sisters came out to meet him, but 
for all they tried to look sorry, it was easy to ^ee that in their 
hearts they were very glad. In a short time, all this picture went 
away out of the glass; but Beauty began to think that the beast 
was very kind to her, and that she had no need to be afraid of 
him. 

About the middle of the day, she found a table laid ready 
for her, and a sweet concert of music played all the time she 
was eating her dinner without her seeing a single, creature. But 
at supper, when she was going to seat herself at table, she heard 
the noise of the beast, and could not help trembling with fear 
“Beauty,” said he, “will you give me leave to see you sup ?” 
“That is as you please,” answered she, very much afraid “ Not 
m the least,” said the beast; “ you alone command in this place, 
[f you should not like my company, you need only to say so, 
and I will leave you that moment. But tell me, Beauty, do you 
not think me very ugly ?”—“ Why, yes,” said she, “ for I cannot 
tell a story; but then I think you are very good.”—“You are 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 


137 


right,” replied the beast; “ and, besides being ugly, I am also very 
stupid; I know very well enough that I am but a beast.” 

“ I should think you cannot be very stupid,” said Beauty, “ if 
you yourself know this.”—“ Pray do not let me hinder you from 
eating,” said he : “ and be sure you do not want for any thing; 
for all you see is yours, and I shall be vastly grieved if you are 
not happy.”—“ You are very kind,” said Beauty : “ I must needs 
own that I think very well of your good-nature, and then I al¬ 
most forget how ugly you are.”—“ Yes, yes, I hope I am good- 
tempered,” said he : “ but still I am a monster.”—“ There are 
many men who are worse monsters than you are,” replied Beauty ; 
“ and I am better pleased with you in that form, though it is so 
ugly, than with those who carry wicked hearts under the form of 
a man.”—“ If I had any sense,” said the beast, “ I would thank 
you for what you have said; but I am too stupid to say any 
thing that would give you pleasure.” Beauty ate her supper 
with a very good appetite, and almost lost all her dread of the 
monster; but she was ready to sink with fright, when he said to 
her: “ Beauty, will you be my wife ?” For a few minutes she was 
not able to speak a word, for she was afraid of putting him in a 
passion, by refusing. At length, she said: “ No, beast.” The beast 
made no reply, but sighed deeply and went away. When Beauty 
found herself alone, she began to feel pity for the poor beast 
“ Dear!” said she, “ what a sad thing it is that he should be so 
very frightful, since he is so good-tempered !” 

Beauty lived three months in this palace, very well j leased. 
The beast came to see her every night, and talked with her while 


138 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


she supped; and though what he said was not very clever, yet, 
as she saw in him every day some new mark of his goodness, 
instead of dreading the time of his coming, she was always look¬ 
ing at her watch, to see if it was almost nine o’clock; for that 
was the time when he never failed to visit her. There was but 
one thing that vexed her ; which was that every night before the 
beast went away from her, he always made it a rule to ask her 
if she would be his wife, and seemed very much grieved at her 
saying no. At last, one night, she said to him : “You vex me 
greatly, beast, by forcing me to refuse you so often ; I wish I 
could take such a liking to you as to agree to marry you; but I 
must tell you plainly, that I do not think it will ever happen. I 
shall always be your friend ; so try to let that make you easy.” 
—“ I must needs do so then,” said the beast, “ for I know well 
enough how frightful I am; but I love you better than myself. 
Yet I think I am very lucky in your being pleased to stay with 
me ; now promise me, Beauty, that you will never leave me.” 
Beauty was quite struck when he said this ; for that very day she 
had seen in her glass that her father had fallen sick of grief for her 
sake, and was very ill for the want of seeing her again. “ I would 
promise you with all my heart,” said she, “ never to leave you 
quite ; but I long so much to see my father, that if you do not 
give me leave to visit him, I shall die with grief.”—“ I would 
rather die myself, Beauty,” answered the beast, “ than make you 
fret; I will send you to your father’s cottage ; you shall stay 
there, and your poor beast shall die of sorrow.”—“ No,” said 
Beauty, crying, “ I love you too well to be the cause of your 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 


139 


death; I promise to return in a week. You have shown me that 
my sisters are married, and my brothers are gone for soldiers, so 
that my father is left all alone. Let me stay a week with him.” 
—“ You shall find yourself with him to-morrow morning,” replied 
the beast; “but mind, do not forget your promise. When you 
wish to return, you have nothing to do but to put your ring on a 
table when you go to bed. Good-by, Beauty f ” The beast 
then sighed as he said these words, and Beauty went to bed very 
sorry to see him so much grieved. When she awoke in the 
morning, she found herself in her father’s cottage. She rung a 
bell that was at her bedside, and a servant entered; but as soon 
as she saw Beauty, the woman gave a loud shriek; upon which 
the merchant ran up stairs, and when he beheld his daughter, he 
was ready to die of joy. He ran to the bedside, and kissed her 
a hundred times. At last, Beauty began to remember that she 
had brought no clothes with her to put on; but the servant told 
her she had just found in the next room a large chest full of 
dresses, trimmed all over with gold, and adorned with pearls and 
diamonds. 

Beauty, in her own mind, thanked the beast for his kindness, 
and put on the plainest gown she could find among them all 
She then told the servant to put the rest away with a great deal 
of care, for she intended to give them to her sisters ; but as soon 
as she had spoken these words, the chest was gone out of sight 
in a moment. Her father then said, perhaps the beast chose 
for her to keep them all for herself; and as soon as he had said 
this, they saw the chest standing _ again in the same place 


140 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. 


While Beauty was dressing herself, a servant brought word to 
her that her sisters were come with their husbands to pay her a 
visit. They both lived unhappily with the gentlemen they had 
• married. The husband of the eldest was very handsome : but 
was so very proud of this, that he thought of nothing else from 
morning till night, and did not attend to the beauty of his wife 
1 he second had married a man of great learning; but he made 
no use of it, only to torment and affront all his friends, and his 
wife more than any of them. The two sisters were ready to 
burst with spite when they saw Beauty dressed like a princess, 
and look so very charming. All the kindness that she showed 
them was of no use; for they were vexed more than ever, when 
she told them how happy she lived at the palace of the beast. 

1 The spiteful creatures went by themselves into the garden, where 
they cried to think of her good fortune. “ Why should the little 
wretch be better off than we ?” said they: “ we are much hand¬ 
somer than she is.”—“ Sister,” said the eldest, “ a thought has 
just come into my head : let us try to keep her here longer than 
the week that the beast gave her leave for; and then he will be 
so angry, that perhaps he will eat her up in a moment.”—“ That 
is well thought of,” answered the other: “but to do this we 
must seem very kind to her.” They then made up their minds 
to be so, and went to join her in the cottage : where they showed 
her so much false love, that Beauty could not help crying for joy 
When the week was ended, the two sisters began to pretend 
so much grief at the thoughts of her leaving them, that she 
agreed to stay a week more ; bukall that time Beauty could not 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 141 

\ 

help fretting for the sorrow that she knew her staying would give 
her poor beast; for she tenderly loved him, and much wished 
for his company again The tenth night of her being at the cot¬ 
tage, she dreamed she was in the garden of the palace, and that 
the beast lay dying on a grass plot, and, with his last breath, put 
her in mind of her promise, and laid his death to her keeping 
away from him. Beauty awoke in a great fright, and burst into 
tears. “ Am not I wicked,” said she, “ to behave so ill to a beast 
who has shown me so much kindness; why will not I marry 
him ? I am sure I should be more happy with him than my 
sisters are with their husbands. He shall not be wretched any 
longer on my account; for I should do nothing but blame myself 
all the rest of my life.” 

She then rose, put her ring on the table, got into bed again, 
and soon fell asleep. In the morning, she with joy found herself 
m the palace of the beast. She dressed herself very finely, that 
she might please him the better, and thought she had never 
known a day pass away so slow. At last the clock struck 
nine, but the beast did not come. Beauty then thought to be 
sure she had been the cause of his death in earnest. She ran 
from room to room all over the palace, calling out his name, but 
still she saw nothing of him. After looking for him a long time, 
she thought of her dream, and ran directly towards the grass 
plot; and there she found the poor beast lying senseless and 
seeming dead. She threw herself upon his body, thinking noth¬ 
ing at all of his ugliness ; and finding his heart still beat, she ran 
and fetched some water from a pond in the garden, and threw it 


142 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


on his face. The beast then opened his eyes, and said : “You 
have forgot your promise, Beauty. My grief for the loss of you 
has made me resolve to starve myself to death; but I shall die 
content, since I have had the pleasure of seeing you once more.’ 
“ No, dear beast,” replied Beauty, “you shall not die ; you shal. 
live to be my husband : from this moment I offer to marry you, 
and will be only yours. Oh! I thought I felt only friendship for 
you: but the pain I now feel, shows me that I could not live 
without seeing you.” 

The moment Beauty had spoken these words, the palace was 
suddenly lighted up, and music, fireworks, and all kinds of re¬ 
joicings, appeared round about them. Yet Beauty took no notice 
of all this, but watched over her dear beast with the greatest ten¬ 
derness. But now she was all at once amazed to see at her 
feet, instead of her poor beast, the handsomest prince that ever 
was seen, who thanked her most warmly for having broken his 
enchantment. Though this young prince deserved all her notice, 
she could not help asking him what was become of the beast. 
“You see him at your feet, Beauty,” answered the prince; “for 
[ am he. A wicked fairy had condemned me to keep the form 
of a beast till a beautiful young lady should agree to marry me, 
and ordered me, on pain of death, not to show that I had any 
sense. You, alone, dearest Beauty, have kindly judged of me 
by the goodness of my heart; and in return I offer you my hand 
and my crown, though I know the reward is much less than 
what I owe you Beauty, in the most pleasing surprise, helped 
the prince'to rise, and they walked along to the palace, when her 


BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 


143 


wonder was very great to find her father and sisters there, who 
had been brought by the lady, Beauty had seen in her dream. 
“ Beauty,” said the lady, (for she was a fairy,) “ receive the re* 
ward of the choice you have made. You have chosen goodness 
of heart, rather than sense and beauty ; therefore, you deserve 
to find them all three joined in the same person. You are going 
to be a great queen : I hope a crown will not destroy your virtue. 
As for you, ladies,” said the fairy to the other two sisters, 
“ I have long known the malice of your hearts, and the wrongs 
you have done. You shall become two statues ; but under that 
form you shall still keep your reason, and shall be fixed at tl\e 
gates of your sister's palace ; and I will not pass any worse sen¬ 
tence on you than to see her happy. You will never appear *n 
your own persons again, till you are fully cured of your faults; 
and to' tell the truth, I am very much afraid you will remain 
statues for ever.” 

At the same moment, the fairy, with a stroke of her wand, 
removed all who were present to the young prince’s country, 
where he was received with the greatest joy by his subjects. He 
married Beauty, and passed a long and happy life with her, be¬ 
cause they still kept in the same course of goodness that thev 
had always been used to 





PRINCE CHARMING 


was one time a prince, who was but six 
years old when he lost his father; at first, he 
was rathex~ sad, but the pleasure of being a 
king quickly consoled him. This prince was 
called Charming : he had not a bad heart, but 
he had been brought up as a prince ; that is to say, he had his 
own way in every thing; and this bad education would in con 
sequence have undoubtedly rendered him wicked. He had 
already began to exhibit symptoms of anger when any one told 
him of his faults ; he neglected his business to deliver himself 


144 











PRINCE CHARMING 


145 


up to his pleasures; above all, he was so passionately attached 
to the chase, that he passed the greater part of his time in this 
amusement. He would have been spoiled, as are almost all 
princes ; however, he had a good governor, whom he loved very 
much when he was young ; but after he became king, he thought 
his governor too virtuous. “ I will never dare to follow my own 
notions before him,” laid he to himself; u for he says that a 
prince ought to give all his time to the business of his kingdom, 
and should not be too fond of pleasure. Even.though he should 
say nothing, he will look sad, and I shall perceive by his coun¬ 
tenance, that he is dissatisfied with me; I must remove him to 
a distance, for his presence will be a constraint upon me.” On 
the morrow, Charming assembled his council, bestowed great 
praises upon his governor, and said, that to reward him for the 
attention he had shown him, he bestowed upon him the govern¬ 
ment of a province, which was at a great distance from the court. 
‘When his governor had departed, he plunged into all species of 
indulgence, and particularly hunting, of which he was fond to 
distraction. 

One day, while Charming was in a large forest, there passed 
by him a doe of a snowy whiteness ; she had a collar of gold 
around her neck, and when she had approached near the prince, 
she looked at him earnestly, and then retreated. “ Let no one 
attempt to kill her,” cried Charming. He then gave orders to 
his people, to remain with the dogs, while he pursued the doe. 
It appeared as if she waited for him; but when he came near 

her, ?he kept retreating; at the same time, frisking and gambolling. 

7* 


145 


PRINCE CHARMING. 


So great was his desire of taking her, that following her, he had 
proceeded a great way unconsciously. The night came on, and 
he lost sight of the doe. He was greatly embarrassed, for he 
knew not where he was. All on a sudden, he heard the sound 
of musical instruments, but it appeared to come from a distance. 
However, he followed the direction of this agreeable noise, until 
he arrived at a large castle, whence proceeded the music. The 
porter asked him what he desired, and the prince related his ad¬ 
venture. “You are welcome,” said the man to him: “let me 
lead you to supper, for the doe belongs to my mistress, and 
whenever she goes out, it is to bring her company.” At this 
moment, the porter whistled, and a great number of servants ap¬ 
peared with flambeaux, and led the prince to a well-lighted apart¬ 
ment. The furniture of this apartment was not splendid, but 
every thing was so appropriate, and so well arranged, that it was 
pleasant to see it. Immediately the mistress of the house made 
her appearance ; the prince was struck with her beauty, and 
having thrown himself at her feet, he could not address her, so 
deeply intent was he in looking upon her. “ Arise, prince !” said 
she to him, presenting him her hand: “ I am delighted at the 
admiration I excite. You appear to me so agreeable, that I wish 
from my heart it may be your fate to draw me from this solitude. 
I am called True Glory, and am immortal; I have lived in this 
castle since the beginning of the world, awaiting a husband; a 
great number of kings have come hither to see me, but although they 
had sworn to me an eternal fidelity, they have failed to keep their 
word, but have abandoned me for the most cruel of my enemies ” 


PRINCE CHARMING 


147 


“ Ah, beautiful princess, can any one who has once seen you, 
ever forget you ? I swear never to love other than you, and from 
this moment, I choose you for my queen.”—“ And I accept you 
for my king,” said True Glory to him : “ but it is not permitted 
me to marry you immediately. I go to make you acquainted 
with another prince, who is at my palace, and who desires also 
to marry me. If I were my own mistress, I would select your¬ 
self in preference ; but this depends not on myself. You must 
quit me for three years, and that one of the two, who shall be 
most faithful to me during this time, shall have the preference.” 

Charming was deeply grieved at these words, but he was still 
more so, when he saw the prince of whom True Glory had spoken. 
He was so beautiful, and possessed so much intellect, that he 
feared lest True Glory should love him more than himself. 

He was called Absolute, and possessed a large kingdom. Both 
of them supped with True Glory, and were very sad, when they 
had to quit in the morning; she told them to wait for three 
years, and then come together to the palace. Scarcely had they 
proceeded two hundred paces in the forest, when they saw a 
palace, far more magnificent than that of True Glory. The gold, 
the silver, the marble, the diamonds, dazzled their eyes; the 
gardens were superb, and curiosity induced them to enter. They 
were very much surprised to find their princess, but her dress 
was changed; her hair, instead of white roses, as on the evening 
before, was decorated with pearls, and her robe, before simple 
and plain, was ample, and loaded with diamonds. “ I showed 
you yesterday my country-seat, but since I have two princes for 


148 PRINCE CHARMING. 

my lovers, I find it unworthy of me ; I have abandoned it for 
ever, and I will wait for you in the palace ; for princes ought 
ever to love the magnificent. Gold and precious stones, are only 
made for them, and when their subjects behold their splendour, 
they respect them the more.” At the same time, she led her 
two lovers into a great hall. “ I am going to show you,” said 
she to them, “ the portraits of most of the princes, who have 
been my favourites: behold him called Alexander, whom I 
would have married, but he died too young; with a very small 
number of soldiers, he laid waste all Asia, and made himself 
master of it; he loved me to madness, and often risked his 
life to please me : look at this other, named Pyrrhus ; the desire 
of becoming my husband, made him leave his own kingdom to 
gain others ; he was ever running about, but was unfortunately 
killed by a tile, which a woman threw upon his head. This 
other, was Julius Cesar ; to merit my love, he waged war for ten 
years with the Gauls. He conquered Pompey, and subjugated 
the Romans ; he would have been my husband, but having, con¬ 
trary to my advice, pardoned his enemies, they murdered him 
with their daggers.” 

The princess showed them a still greater number of portraits, 
and having given them a splendid breakfast, which was served 
jp on dishes of gold, she requested them to resume their jour¬ 
ney. When they had left the palace, Absolute said to Charming : 
“ Acknowledge that the princess was a thousand times more 
agreeable to-day, in her fine dress, and that she also had a great 
deal more wit.”—“ T don’t know,” said Charming: 44 she was 


PRINCE CHARMING. 


149 


painted to-day ; she appeared to me changed, partly owing to 
her beautiful dress; but in truth, she pleased me much more in 
her simple attire.” The two princes separated, and returned to 
their kingdoms, resolved to do all that lay in their power to 
please their mistress 

When Charming arrived at his palace, he recollected that 
when he'was small, his governor had often spoken to him of 
True Glory, and he said to himself: “ Perhaps he knows the 
princess. I will recall him to court, he will tell me what.I must 
do to please her.” He then sent an express to seek him, and as 
soon as his governor, who was called Sincere , had reached the 
court, he summoned him into^his cabinet, and related to him 
what had happened. The good Sincere, weeping with joy, said 
to the king : “ Ah ! my dear prince, I am happy I have returned ; 
without me you would have lost your princess. You must know 
that she has a sister, who is called False Glory. This wicked 
creature, is not so handsome as True Glory, but she paints her¬ 
self to conceal her defects. She waits for all those princes who 
come out from True Glory, and as she resembles her sister, she 
misleads them ; they believe they are toiling for True Glory, but 
they lose her, by following the advice of her sister. You have 
seen that all the lovers of False Glory, have perished miserably. 
Prince Absolute, who is about to follow their example, will never 
survive his thirtieth year; but as for you, if you conduct your¬ 
self by my advice, I promise, that at last you will be the husband 
of your princess. She must marry the greatest king in the world; 
exert yourself to become so.” 


150 


PRINCE CHARMING 


“ My dear Sincere,” replied Charming, “ you know that is im¬ 
possible ; however great my kingdom may become, my subjects 
are so ignoiant, and rude, that T never could employ them in 
war, for to become the greatest king in the world I must gain a 
great number of battles, and take many cities.”—“ Ah ! my dear 
prince,” replied Sincere, “ you have already forgotten the lessons 
I gave you. Though you should have but a single city, and two 
or three hundred subjects—and though you should never go 
to war, you may become the greatest king in the world; all that 
is required for this, is to be the most just, and the most virtuous. 
This is the way to acquire True Glory. Those who take away the 
kingdoms of their neighbours—‘those who, to build large castles, 
to purchase fine dresses and plenty of diamonds, rob their people, 
are mistaken, and find but the princess False Glory, who then 
will no longer be painted, but will appear to them in all her de¬ 
formity. You say that your subjects are rude, and ignorant; it ' 
is your duty to instruct them • make war upon ignorance and 
crime, contend against your own passions, and you will be truly 
a great king, and a conqueror far above Cesar, Pyrrhus, Alexan¬ 
der, and all those heroes, whose portraits False Glory pointed 
out to you.” 

Charming resolved to follow the advice of his governor For 
this purpose, he requested one of his relations to govern his king¬ 
dom in his absence, and departed with his governor, to travel 
through the world, and to inform himself of all that he must do .. 
to render his subjects happy. 

Whenever he found a wise or able man, he said to him: “ If 


PRINCE CHARMING 


151 


you will accompany me, I will reward you handsomely.” When 
he had become well instructed himself, and had collected a great 
many distinguished men, he returned to his kingdom, and gave 
them orders to instruct his subjects, who were very poor and 
ignorant. He caused great Cities, and a navy to be built, the 
young to be educated, the poor, the sick, and the aged to be 
taken care of; he distributed justice himself to his people, so 
that he rendered them an honourable and happy nation He 
spent two years m these labours, and at the end of this time, he 
. said to Sincere : “Do you believe that I am yet worthy of True 
Glory?”—“ There still remains a great work for you to do,” said 
his governor. “ You have overcome the vices of your subjects, 
your own indolence and love of pleasure, but you are still the 
slave of your anger; it is the last enemy you have to contend 
with.” 

Charming had much difficulty m correcting himself of this 
last defect; but he was so much in ove with the princess, that 
he made the greatest efforts to become forbearing and mild. He 
succeeded, and the three years having elapsed, he went back to 
the forest, where he had seen the white doe. He did not take 
with him a great train; Sincere alone accompanied him. There 
he quickly met Absolute, in a grand chariot, on which, were 
painted the battles he had gained, and the cities he had taken ; 
before him walked a great many princes, whom he had taken 
prisoners, and who were chained together like slaves. When he 
perceived Charming, he laughed at him, and the condact he had 
pursued. At the same moment*, they saw the palaces of the two 


152 


PRINCE CHARMING 


sisters, which were not far distant from each other. Charming 
took the road to the first, and Absolute was delighted, because 
she whom he mistook for the princess, had told him that he 
would never return. But scarcely had he quitted Charming, 
when the princess True Glory, a thousand times more beautiful, 
but quite as simply attired, as when he saw her for the first 
time, appeared before him. “ Come hither, my prince,” said she : 
“ thanks to your friend Sincere, who has taught you to distin¬ 
guish myself, from my sister; you are worthy of being my hus¬ 
band.” 

At the same time, True Glory commanded the Virtues, who 
were her subjects, to prepare for the celebration of her marriage 
with Charming. While he was engrossed with his happiness in 
becoming the husband of such a wife, Absolute arrived at False 
Glory’s, who received him most kindly, and offered to marry him 
upon the spot. He consented, but scarcely had she become his 
wife, when he perceived, in looking at her nearer, that she was 
old and wrinkled, although she had not neglected to lay on a 
great deal of paint, to conceal it. 

While she was speaking to him, a golden thread, which fas¬ 
tened her false teeth, broke asunder, and out they fell upon the 
ground. 

Prince Absolute, was so much enraged at having been de¬ 
ceived, that he jumped upon her to beat her, but as he took hold 
of her beautiful black hair, which was very long, what was his 
astonishment, to find it remaining in his hands For False Glory 
wore a wig, and while her head was uncovered, he saw that she 


PRINCE CHARMING. 


153 


had but a dozen hairs and they were quite gray. Absolute left 
this wicked and ugly creature, and ran to the palace of True 
Glory, who had married Charming; and his grief at having lost 
the princess was so great, that he died of mortification 

Charming grieved for his fate, and lived a long time with 
True Glory. They had many daughters, but one alone perfectly 
resembled her mother. 

He placed her in this country palace, waiting until she could 
find a husband; and to prevent her wicked aunt from seducing 
her lovers, he wrote her history, to teach those princes, who wish 
to marry his daughter, that the only way of possessing True 
Glory, is to render themselves virtuous, and useful to their sub¬ 
jects, and that to succeed in this design, it is indispensably ne¬ 
cessary to have a sincere friend. 





BLANCH AND ROSALINDA 

n a pleasant village, some miles from the me 

tropolis, there lived a very good sort of wo 

man, who was much beloved by all her neigh 

hours, because she was always ready to assist 

every one who was in need. She had received 

in her youth a better education than the inhabitants of the little 

village in which she dwelt, and for this reason, the poor people 

looked up to her with a degree of respect. She was the widow 

of a very good man, who, when he died, left her with two chil 

dren. They were very pretty girls. The eldest, on ,account of 

* 

151 

•S 













-oJLANCH AND ROSALINDA 


155 


the fairness of her complexion, was named Blanch, and the other, 
Rosalinda, because her cheeks were like roses, and her lips like 
coral. One day, while Goody Hearty sat spinning at the door, 
she saw a poor old woman going by, leaning on a stick, who had 
much ado to hobble along. “ You seem very much tired, dame,” 
said she to the old woman: “ sit down here and rest yourself a 
little at the same time, she bid her daughters fetch a chair 
they both went, but Rosalinda ran fastest, and brought one. 
“ Will you please to drink said Goody Hearty. “ Thank you,” 
answered the old woman, “ I do not care if 1 do; and methinks 
if you had any thing nice that I liked, I could eat a bit.”—“ You 
are welcome to the best I have in my house,” said Goody 
Hearty ; “ but as I am poor, it is homely fare.” 

She then ordered her daughters to spread a clean cloth on the 
table, while she went to the cupboard, from whence she took 
some brown bread and cheese, to which she added a mug of 
cider. As soon as the old woman was seated at the table, Goody 
Hearty desired her eldest daughter to go and gather some plums 
off her own plum-tree, which she had planted herself, and took 
.great delight m. Blanch, instead of obeying her mother readily, 
grumbled and muttered as she went. “ Surely,” said she to her¬ 
self, “ I did not take all this care and pains with my plum-tree 
for that old greedy creature.” However, she durst not refuse 
gathering a few plums ; but she gave them with a very ill will, 
and very ungraciously. “ As for you, Rosalinda,” said her mo¬ 
ther, “ you have no fruit to offer this good dame, for your grapes 
are not ripe.”—“ That’s true,” said Rosalinda, “ but my hen has 


] 56 


BLANCH AND ROSALINDA. 


lust laid, for I hear her cackle, and if the gentlewoman likes a 
new-laid egg, ’tis very much at her serviceand, without stay¬ 
ing for an answer, she ran to the henroost, and brought the egg; 
but just as she was presenting it to the old woman, she turned 
into a fine beautiful lady ! “ Good woman,” said the old dame to 
Goody Hearty, “ I have long seen your industry, perseverance, 
and pious resignation, and I will reward your daughters accord¬ 
ing to their merits :—the eldest shall be a great queen ; the other 
shall have a country farmwith this she struck the house with 
her stick, which immediately disappeared, and in its room up 
came a pretty little snug farm. “ This, Rosalinda,” said she, “ is 
your lot. I know I have given each of you what you like best.” 

Having said this, the fairy went away, leaving both mother 
and daughters greatly astonished They went into the farm¬ 
house, and were quite charmed with the neatness of the furni¬ 
ture : the chairs were only wood, but so bright, you might see 
your face in them. The beds were of linen-cloth, as white as 
snow. There were forty sheep in the sheep-pen ; four oxen and 
four cows in their stalls; and in the vard all sorts of poultry— 
hens, ducks, pigeons, &c. There was also a pretty garden, well 
stocked with flowers, fruit, and vegetables. Blanch, saw the 
fairy’s gift to her sister, without being jealous, and was wholly 
taken up with the thoughts of being a queen ; when, all of a 
sudden, she heard some hunters riding by, and going to the gate 
to see them, she appeared so charming in the king’s eyes, that 
he resolved to marry her. When Blanch was a queen, she said 
to her sister Rosalinda * “ I do not care you should be a farmer 



BLANCH AND ROSALINDA. 


157 


Come with me, sister, and I will match you to some great lord.” 
““ I am very much obliged to you, sister,” replied Rosalinda, 
“ but I am used to a country life, and I choose to stay where I 
am.” Queen Blanch arrived at her palace, and was so delighted 
with her new dignity, that she could not sleep for several nights 
the first three months, her thoughts were wholly engrossed by 
dress, balls, and plays, so that she thought of nothing else. She 
was soon accustomed to all this, and nothing now diverted her, 
on the contrary, she found a great deal of trouble. The ladies 
of the court were all very respectful in her presence, but she 
knew very well that they did not love her; and, when out of her 
sight, would often say to one another: “ See, what airs this 
little country girl gives herself; sure his majesty must have a 
very mean fancy, to make choice of such a consort.” These dis¬ 
courses soon reached the king’s ears, and made him reflect on 
I what he had done ; he began to think he was wrong, and repented 
his marriage. The courtiers saw this, and accordingly paid her 
little or no respect: she was very unhappy, for she had not a 
single friend to whom she could declare her griefs : she saw it 
was the fashion at court to betray the dearest friend for interest, 
to caress and smile upon those they most hated; and to lie every 
instant. She was obliged to be always serious, because they 
told her, a queen ought to look grave and majestic. She had 
several children, and all the time there was a physician to in¬ 
spect whatever she ate or drank, and to order every thing she 
liked off the table : not a grain of salt was allowed to be put in 
her soup, nor was she permitted to take a walk, though she had 




158 


BLANCH AND ROSALINDA. 


ever so much a mind to it. Governesses were appointed to her 
children, who brought them up contrary to her wishes; yet she 
had not the liberty to find fault. Poor Queen Blanch was dying 
with grief, and grew so thin, that it was a pity to see her. She 
had not seen her sister for three years, because she imagined it 
would disgrace a person of her rank and dignity to visit a far¬ 
mer’s wife. Her extreme melancholy made her very ill, and her 
physicians ordered change of air. She therefore resolved to 
spend a few days in the country, to divert her uneasiness, and 
improve her health. 

Accordingly she asked the king leave to go, who very readily 
granted it, because he thought he should be rid of her for some 
time. She set out, and soon arrived at the village. As she drew 
near Rosalinda’s house, she beheld, at a little distance from the 
door, a company of shepherds and shepherdesses, who were dan¬ 
cing and making merry. “ Alas !” said the queen, .sighing, “ there' 
was once a time, when I used to divert myself like those poor 
people, and no one found fault with me.” The moment Rosa¬ 
linda perceived her sister, she ran to embrace her. The queen 
ordered her carnage to stop, and, alighting, rushed into her sis¬ 
ter’s arms : but Rosalinda had grown so plump, and had such an 
air of content', that the queen, as she looked on her, could not 1 
forbear bursting into tears. 

Rosalinda was married to a farmer’s son, who had no fortune j 
of his own — but then he ever remembered, that he was indebted I 
to his wife for every thing he had; and he strove to show his 
gratitude by his obliging behaviour. Rosalinda had not many 



BLANCH 1ND ROSALINDA 


159 


servants ; but those she had, loved her as though she had been 
their mother, because she used them kindly. She was beloved 
by all her neighbours, and they all endeavoured to show it. She 
neither had, nor wanted, much money : corn, win'e, and oil, were 
the growth of her farm : her cows supplied her with milk, butter, 
and cheese. The wool of her sheep was spun to clothe herself, 
her husband, and two children she had. They enjoyed perfect 
health; and when the work of the day was over, they spent the 
evening in all sorts of pastimes. “Alas !” cried the queen, “the 
fairy made me a sad present in giving me a crown. Content is 
!not found in magnificent palaces, but in an innocent country life.” 
Scarce had she done speaking, before the fairy appeared. “ In 
making you a queen,” said the fairy, “ I did not intend to reward, 
but punish you, for giving me your plums with an ill will. To 
be contented and happy, you must, like your sister, possess only 
what is necessary, and wish for nothing else.”—“ Ah ! madam,” 
cried Blanch, “ you are sufficiently revenged: pray, put an end 
to my distress.”—“ It is at an end,” said the fairy; “ the king, 
who loves you no longer, has just married another wife, and to¬ 
morrow his officers will come to forbid you returning any more 
to the palace.” It happened just as the fairy had foretold ; and 
Blanch passed the remainder of her days with her sister Rosa¬ 
linda, in all manner of happiness and content: never thought 
igain of court, unless it was to thank the fairy for having brought 
rer back to her native village. 




AURORA AND AMY. 


here was one time a lady, who had two daugh 
ters ; the eldest, who was called Aurora , was 
as beautiful as the day, and possessed also an 
excellent disposition; the second, who was 
named Amy, was as handsome as her sister, 
but was bad tempered ; her sole delight “consisted in doing evil 
The mother had been also quite beautiful, but she began to de¬ 
cline, and the circumstance gave her a great deal of vexation 
Aurora was sixteen, ‘and Amy but twelve; so the mother, who 
was afraid of appearing old, quitted the place where every bodl 



160 




























AURORA AND AMY 


161 


was acquainted with her, and sent her elder daughter into the 
country, because she did not wish it to be known, that she had a 
daughter so old. She kept the younger with her, wTent to another 
city, telling every one, that Amy was but ten years old, and was 
born before she had reached her fifteenth year. But as she was 
afraid her deceit would be discovered, she sent Aurora still fur¬ 
ther into the country, while the man who carried her thither, left 
her in a large wood, where, resting herself awhile, she had fallen 
asleep. When Aurora awoke and found herself alone in the 
wood, she began to cry. It was almost night, but getting up, she 
endeavoured to find her way out of the forest, but instead of suc¬ 
ceeding, she only wandered still farther in it. At last, she saw 
a great way off, a light, and proceeding in the direction, she 
found a small house. 

Aurora knocked at the door, and a shepherdess opened it, and 
asked her what she wanted. “ My good mother,” said Aurora to 
her “ I beg you for pity’s sake, to allow me to lie down in your 
house, for if I remain in the wood, I shall be devoured by 
wolves.”—“With all my heart, my sweet girl,” replied the shep¬ 
herdess to her : “ but tell me how come you to be so late in the 
woods ?” Aurora related her story, and asked: “ Am I not very 
unfortunate to have so cruel a mother? Would it not have been 
better, if I had died at my birth, than have lived to be so cruelly 
treated? What have X done, good God, that I should be so 
miserable ?”-—“ My dear child,” replied the shepherdess, “ we 
must never murmur against God; he is all-powerful, he is wise, 

he loves you, and you ought not believe he has permitted your 
8 



162 


AURORA AND AMY 


misfortune, except for your good. Trust in Him, and remember 
that God always protects the virtuous, and that the troubles 
which happen f to them, are not always misfortunes. Dwell with 
me, I will be a mother to you, and love you as my daughter.” 
Aurora agreed to the proposal, and on the morrow, the shep¬ 
herdess said to her : “ I will give you a little flock to keep ; but 
I am afraid you will grow tired, my dear girl, so take a distaff 
with you, and spin; this will be amusement for you.”—“Mother,” 
replied Aurora, “ I am a girl of fashion, I do not know how to 
work ”—“ Take then a book,” said the shepherdess. “ I am 
not fond of reading,” replied Aurora to her, blushing. It was be¬ 
cause she was ashamed to acknowledge to the fairy, that she 
could read but indifferently. 

She had for all that, to confess the truth; she said to her pro¬ 
tector, that she was unwilling to learn when she was small, and q 
that since she had grown up, she had had no time 

“You have then had a great deal to do,” said the shep¬ 
herdess.”—“Yes, my dear mother,” replied Aurora, “I had to 
go a walking with my friends m the morning; after dinner, I 
dressed my hair; m the evening, I was at the assembly ; after 
that, I went to the play and the opera, and finished the night at 
•the ball.”—“ Truly,” said the good woman, “ you had plenty of 
employment, and without doubt you never got tired ”—“ 1 ask 
your pardon, my dear mother, when I was a quarter of an hour 
all alone, which sometimes would happen, I was tired to death 
But when we went into the country, it was still worse ; I spent 
the whole of the time in dressing and undressing, simply to 

1 


AURORA AND AMY. 


163 


amuse myself.”—“ Then you were not happy m the country,’’ 
said the shepherdess* “ I was not happier in the city,” replied 
Aurora: “ if I played, I lost my money; if I was at an assem 
bly, I saw my companions better drest than myself, and this 
mortified me much. If I went to the ball, I was employed in 
finding out the defects of those who danced more gracefully than 
myself. In short, I never passed a day without vexation.”— 
“ Complain then no more of Providence, in conducting you into 
this solitude. He has deprived you of more mortifications than 
pleasures ; but this is not all : you would in consequence, have 
become still more unhappy; for indeed, one is not always young, 
the time of balls and of plays would have passed When we 
become old, and still desirous of attending assemblies, young 
people laugh at us; besides, we can no longer dance, we care 
no longer to dress, we must then grow weary to death, and be¬ 
come very unhappy.”—“ But my good mother,” said Aurora, 
“ we cannot always remain alone; the day appears as long as a 
year, when we have no company ”—“ I differ with you, my 
dear,” replied the shepherdess “ I am alone here, and the years 
appear to me as short as days. If you wish, I will communicate 
to you, the secret of never growing tired.”—“ I wish very much,” 
said Aurora * “ you can direct me as you think proper. I will 
willingly obey you.” 

The shepherdess, taking advantage of the good disposition of 
Aurora, wrote upon a paper, all that she was to do ; every day 
was spent in devotion, reading, labour, and exercise. There was 
no clock in the wood, and Aurora knew not whaf was the hour, 



164 


AURORA AND AMY 


but the shepherdess knew the time by the sun. She told Aurora 
to come to dinner. “ Dear mother,” said this beautiful girl to the 
shepherdess : “ you dine early; it is not a long time since we 
got up.” It is for all that, two o’clock,” replied he shepherdess, 
smiling, “an4 we have been up since five ; but my dear girl, when 
one is usefully employed, time passes very quickly, and we 
never grow tired.” 

Aurora, delighted at no longer suffering from ennui, applied 
herself earnestly to her reading, and her labours ; and found her¬ 
self a thousand times more happy in the midst of her rustic oc¬ 
cupation, than she ever was in the city. 

“ I see plainly,” said she to the shepherdess, “ that God does 
every thing for our happiness. If my mother had not been un¬ 
just and cruel towards me, I would have remained in my igno¬ 
rance ; and vanity, indolence, and the desire to please, would 
have made me wicked and unhappy ” 

Aurora had been over a year with the shepherdess, when the 
brother of the king came to hunt in the woods where she kept 
her sheep ; he was called Ingenuous, and was the best prince in 
the world. But the king, his brother, who was called Crafty, 
did not resemble him in the least; for his greatest delight con- * 
sisted in deceiving his neighbours, and abusing his subjects. In 
genuous was charmed at the beauty of Aurora, and told her he 
would be most happy, if she Tyould marry him. Aurora found 
him very agreeable; but she knew that a prudent girl should not 
listen to such discourses as these. 

‘ Sir,” said she to Ingenuous, ‘‘ if what you tell me be true 

A 


AURORA AND AMY 


165 


go and find my mother, who is a shepherdess, she lives in that 
small house you see below there. If she consents you should be 
my husband, I am also willing, for she is prudent, and so rea 
sonable, . that I will never disobey her.”—“ My beautiful girl,” 
said Ingenuous, “ I will go with all my heart, to ask your 
mother ; but I wish not to marry you against your will; if she 
consents that you shall be my wife, it may, perhaps, be displeasing 
to you, and I would rather die, than give you the slightest pain/ 
—“ A man who thinks thus, must be virtuous,” said Aurora 
“ and a girl can never be unhappy, with a man of virtue.” 

Ingenuous quitted Aurora, and went to find the shepherdess, 
who was acquainted with his character, and who willingly con¬ 
sented to his marriage; he promised to return m three days to 
see Aurora with herself, and departed perfectly satisfied, after 
having given her his ring as a pledge. In the meantime, Au 
rora was very impatient to return to the house. Ingenuous ap¬ 
peared to be so agreeable, that she feared, lest she, whom she 
called her mother, might have refused him; but the shepherdess 

said to her: “ It is not because Ingenuous is a prince, that 1 

# 

have agreed to your marriage with him, but because he is a 
most honourable man.” 

Aurora awaited with some impatience, the return of the prince 
but on the second day after his departure, as she was bringing 
home her flock, she fell so unfortunately into a bush, that she 
scratched her face dreadfully; she looked at herself quickly in a 
brook, and she was very much frightened, for the blood streamed 
from every part of her. “Am I not very unfortunate,” said she 


166 


AURORA AND AM 1 . 


to the shepherdess, as she entered the house. “ Ingenuous will 
see me to-morrow, and will love me no longer; he will find me 
hideous.” 

The shepherdess said to her smiling : “ Since the gracious 
God has permitted you to fall, no doubt it is for your good ; for 
you will know that he loves vou, and he will know more assu¬ 
redly that you are good ” 

Aurora acknowledged her fault, for it is so to murmur against 
Providence, and she said to herself: “ If the prince Ingenuous 
will not marry me because I am no longer handsome, it is cer¬ 
tain I should have lived unhappily with him.” 

In the meantime, the shepherdess cleansed her face and took 
out some thorns that were buried within the flesh. On the mor 
row, Aurora looked frightful, for her face was horribly swelled, 
and her eyes could scarcely be seen. About six o’clock in the 
morning, they heard a carriage stop before the gate, but instead 
of Ingenuous, they saw King Crafty descend. One of the cour¬ 
tiers, who had been a hunting with the prince, told the king that 
his brother had come across a most beautiful girl, and was about 
to marry her. “ You are very bold to wish to marry without my 
permission,” said Crafty to his brother “ to punish you I will 
myself marry this girl, if she is as handsome, as is said.” 

Crafty, on meeting the shepherdess, asked of her where her 
daughter was “ Here she is,” replied the shepherdess, pointing 
out Aurora. “ What ] this monster said the king . “ Have you 
no other daughter, to whom my brother has given his ring 
“ Look at my finger,” replied Aurora At these words, the king 


AURORA AND AMY 


16 ? 


burst into a loud fit of laughter, and said: “ I did not think my 
brother had such a wretched taste ; but I am delighted that I can 
punish him.” 

At the same time, he commanded the shepherdess to throw a 
veil over the head of Aurora, and having sent for Prince Ingenu¬ 
ous, he said to him • “ My dear brother, since you love the beau¬ 
tiful Aurora, I wish you to marry her immediately.”—“ And as for 
myself, I w.-ll deceive nobody,” said Aurora, throwing aside her 
veil. “ Look at my face, Ingenuous; I have become excessively 
ugly since three days ; do you still wish to marry me ?”—“You 
appear more lovely than ever, to my e}^es,” said the prince; 
“for I perceive you are more virtuous, even than I thought.” 

Immediately, he gave her his hand. Crafty laughed aloud. 
He then commanded that they should be married on the spot, 
and afterwards, he said to Ingenuous: “ As I love not monsters, 
you can dwell with your wife in this hut; I forbid you to bring 
her to court.” At the same time, he remounted his chariot, and 
left Ingenuous transported with joy. “Well,” said the shep¬ 
herdess to Aurora, “ do you still believe it has been unfortunate 
that you fell ? Had it not been foY this accident, the king would 
have fallen in love with you, and had you refused to marry him, 
he would have slain Ingenuous.”—“You are right, my dear 
mother,” replied Aurora, “ but for all that, I am become so hide 
ou» as to excite fear, and I dread lest the prince should regret 
havmg married me.”—“ No, no, I assure you,” cried Ingenuous ; 
“ we may become accustomed to an ugly face, but we can never 
get used to a bad temper.”—“ I am delighted with your senti- 


AURORA AKD AMY 


168 

ments,” said the shepherdess, “ but Aurora shall again be hand¬ 
some ; I have a lotion that will cure her face.” 

Indeed, at the end of three days, the face of Aurora became 
as it was before; but the prince begged' her always to wear hei 
veil, for he was afraid his wicked brother would steal her away, 
should he see her 

In the meantime, Crafty, who wished to get married, sent off 
many painters, to bring him the portraits of the most beautiful 
girls in his kingdom. He was enchanted with that of Amy, the 
sister of Aurora, and sending for her to court, he married her. 
Aurora was very uneasy when she found her sister was queen. 
She dared no longer go out, for she knew how deep was the 
natred of her wicked sister. 

At the termination of a year, Aurora had a son, who was 
called Welcome, and whom she loved devotedly This little' 
prince, as soon as he began to speak, showed such a deal of 
talent, that he was a great favourite with all the family. One 
day, while he was playing before the door with his mother, she 
fell asleep, and when she awoke, she missed her son. She 
screamed aloud, and ran through the whdle forest to seek him. 
The shepherdess endeavoured in vain to make her recollect that 
nothing happens except for her own good. She had the greatesi 
difficulty to console her, but on the morrow, she was obliged to 
confess that the shepherdess was right. 

Crafty and his wife, enraged at not having any children, sent 
soldiers to., kill their nephew, and seeing that they could not find 
him they placed Ingenuous, his wife, and the shepherdess, into 


AURORA A JN D AMY. 


169 


a smal] boat, and sent them out to sea, that they might never 
hear any thing more of them. 

This time Aurora believed herself very unfortunate, but the 
shepherdess kept constantly repeating that God did every thing 
for the best; as the weather was fine, the boat kept travelling on 
its way, for three days, and stopped at a city, which was on the 
border of the sea. 

The king of this city was engaged in a serious war, and his 
enemies were to attack him on the next morning. Ingenuous, who 
possessed great courage, asked for some troops from the king; 
he engaged in many skirmishes, and in one of them, had the 
good fortune to kill their commander. The army, having lost 
their, general, fled, and the king in whose cause he had so hon¬ 
ourably distinguished himself, having no children, as a mark of 
his esteem, adopted Ingenuous for his son. 

Four years afterwards, they learned that Crafty had died of 
mortification, at having married a wicked wife. The people, 
who hated her, drove her away with insults, and sent ambassa¬ 
dors to Ingenuous, to offer him the crown. He embarked with 
his wife and the shepherdess, but a great tempest having arisen, 
they were shipwrecked, and thrown upon a desert island. 

Aurora become wise by all that had happened, did not allow 
herself to be disquieted, and thought that it was for theii good, 
that God had permitted this shipwreck. They fixed up a long 
pole upon the shore, and the white apron of the shepherdess at 
the end of it, to induce vessels passing by, to come to their as¬ 
sistance About evening, they saw approaching, a woman, lead- 
8 * 


170 


AURORA AND AMY. 


mg along a little boy; Aurora had scarcely glanced her eyes 
over him, before she recognised her son Welcome. She asked 
the woman, whence she had taken the child; she replied, that 
her. husband, who was a corsair, had stolen it, but that having 
been shipwrecked near this isle, she had been saved with the 
child, whom she had held in her arms. Two days afterwards, 
the vessels sent to search for the bodies of Ingenuous and Au¬ 
rora, whom they believed to have perished, saw the white linen, 
and landing at the island, they carried the king and his family to 
their kingdoms ; and whatever accident afterwards happened to 
Aurora, she never murmured, because she knew, by her own 
experience, that those things which appear to us as evils, are 
very often the occasions of our haooiness. 






PRINCE TITY. 


here was once on a time, a king, whose name 
was Stingy. He was very avaii'cious. He 
wished to marry, but he desired not a hand 
some princess, all that he wished, was that she 
might have plenty of money, and be more 
saving than himself. He found such as he wanted. He had by 
her two sons, the elder of whom, was named Tity, and the 
second, Myrtillo. Tity was more beautiful than his brother, but 
the king and queen could not endure him, because he loved to 
share all that was given him with his playmates. As for Myr- 



171 













ITZ 


PRINCE TITY. 


tillo, ne loved better to let his sugar candies spoil, than to give 
any away; he shut up his playthings, afraid of using them; and 
when he got any thing in his hand, he grasped it so strongly, 
that no one coild take it from him; and this he did even m 
his sleep. The king and his wife were extravagantly fond of 
this child, because he so much resembled themselves. The 
princes grew up, and for fear that Tity would squander what 
was given him, they scarcely allowed him a shilling. One day 
while Tity was hunting,. a squire of his ran over an old woman, 
and threw her in the dirt. She cried out that he had broken her 
leg, but the squire only laughed at her. Tity, who was kind- 
hearted, severely rebuked his squire, and approaching the old 
woman with Wakeful, his favourite nage, he assisted her to gel 
up, and each of them taking her by an arm, helped her into a 
small hut, where she lived. The prince was much mortified, 
that he had no money to give the old woman “ What use is it 
to me, to be a prince,” said he, “ since I am not permitted to do 
good ? There Can be no pleasure in being a powerful lord, ex¬ 
cept one is able to relieve the afflicted.” 

Wakeful, who heard the prince speaking thus, said to him . 
“ I have only one crown, it is at your service.”—“ I will remu¬ 
nerate you, when I am king,” said Tity. “ I accept your crown, 
to give it to this poor woman.” 

Tity, having returned to the court, the queen reproached him, 
because he had assisted in relieving this poor woman. “ A great 
misfortune, indeed, if this old witch had died!” said she to her 
son: (for the avaricious have no pity.) “ It must have been a fine 


PRINCE TITY. 


173 


sight to see a prince degrading himself, so far as to help along 
an old beggar woman.”—“ Madam,” replied Tity to her, “ prin 
ces never appear greater, than when doing a good action.”— 
“ Begone ! ” said the queen; “ you are a spendthrift, for all vour 
fine talk.” 

The next day, Tity again went a hunting, but his principal 
object was to see how the old woman came on; he found her 
perfectly cured, and she thanked him for the kindness he had 
shown her. “ I have but one request to make you,” said she 

I have some medlars and nuts which are very good; do me 
the favour to eat some ” The prince wished not to refuse the 
woman, lest she should think he despised her; he tasted the 
nuts and the medlars, and he found them excellent. “ Since you 
find them so good,” said the aged woman, “ please me by taking 
the rest for your dessert.” 

While she was saying this, a hen, who had just laid an egg, 
began to cackle ; the old woman begged the prince to have the 
goodness to carry home also the egg; which through com¬ 
plaisance he took, but at the same time he gave her four guineas, 
for Wakeful had given him this sum, having borrowed it from 
his father, who was a country gentleman. When the prince 
arrived at his palace, he ordered them to give him the egg, the 
medlars, and the nuts, for his supper; but as soon as he had 
broken the egg, he was astonished to find within it, a large dia¬ 
mond ' f the medlars and nuts, were also filled with smaller ones 
One ol the by-standers ran to tell the queen of it, who came to 
the apartment of Tity, and was so delighted to see these dia- 


174 


PRINCE TITY 


monds, that she embraced him, and called him her dear son, lor 
the first time in her life. “ Will you give me these diamonds ?” 
said she to her son. “ All that I have is at your service,” said 
the prince to her “ Come, you are a good child,” said the queen 
to him ; “ I will reward you ” 

She then took away the treasure, and sent m return to the 
prince four guineas, very neatly put up in a small piece ol paper. 
Those who saw this present, could not refrain from speaking 
harshly of the queen, “ wondering that she was not ashamed to 
send so contemptible a sum m return for the diamonds, which 
were worth more than five hundred thousand guineas.’’ But the 
prince drove them from his chamber, telling them they were too 
bold, in failing in the respect which was due his mother. In the 
meantime, the queen said to Stingy: “ This old woman, whom 
Tity has relieved, is evidently a great fairy; we must go and 
see her to-morrow; but, instead of taking Tity with us, we will 
carry his brother; for I do not wish that she should become too 
attached to this booby, who had not the wit to keep his dia¬ 
monds.” 

At the same time, she gave orders that they should clean up 
the .carnages, and hire horses, for she had sold those of the 
king, because they cost too much to keep. She caused two of 
these carnages to be filled with doctors, surgeons, and apothe¬ 
caries, and the royal family placed themselves in the other 

When they had reached the hut of the old woman, the queen 
told her, that she had come to request her to excuse the careless 
ness of the Titv’s squire. “ It is because my son has not sense 


PRINCE T1TY. 


175 


enough to choose good servants,” said she to the good woman. 
“ but J will oblige him to turn away the brute ” 

At last she told her, that she had brought with her the most 
skilful persons in the whole kingdom, to cure her foot; but the 
good woman replied to her, that her foot was perfectly well, and 
that she was obliged to her for her kindness, in visiting a poor 
woman like her “ Oh, indeed,” said the queen to her, “ we 
know that you are a great fairy, for you have given to prince 
Tity a large quantity of diamonds.”—“I assure you, Madam,” 
said the old woman, “ that I have given nothing to the Prince 
but an egg, some medlars, and nuts ; I have some more, which 
are at the service of your majesty.”—1 accept them most 
willingly,” said the queen, who was delighted at the idea of get¬ 
ting more diamonds. She received the present, embraced the old 
woman, and begged her to come and see her quickly. All the 
courtiers, after the example of the king and queen, paid her the 
greatest compliments ; the queen asked her how old she was. 
“ I am sixty years of age,” replied she. “ You do not look over 
forty,” said the queen, “and you may still hope to be married, 
for you are yet quite good-looking.” 

At this language, Prince Myrtillo, who had been very badly 
brought up, began openly to laugh at the old woman, and told 
her that it would give him a great deal of pleasure, to dance at 
her wedding. The whole court departed, and the queen had no 
sooner reached her palace, than she had the egg cooked, and 
broke open the nuts and medlars. She found nothing but a 
little chicken; the nuts and medlars were filled with worms 


176 


PRINCE T ITY. 


Immediately she flew into a violent rage * “ This old witch is a 
sorceress,” said she, “ who has wished to insult me ; I shall have 
her put to death.” 

She then called together the judges, to try the old woman, 
out Wakeful, who had heard every thing, ran to the cabin, to 
tell her to save herself. “ Good day, my squire of old women,” 
said she to him : (for she had given him this name, since he had 
assisted in dragging her out of the mud.) “ Alas ! good mother,” 
said Wakeful to her, “make haste and save yourself in my 
father’s house; he is a very honourable man, and will willingly 
conceal you, for if you remain in your cabin, she will send sol¬ 
diers to seize and put you to death.”—“ I am very much obliged 
to you,” said the old lady; “ but I stand in no fear of the wick 
edness of the queen.” 

At this instant, quitting the figure of an old woman, she ap¬ 
peared to Wakeful under her natural form ; he stood dazzled' at 
her beauty ; he was about to throw himself at her feet, but she 
prevented him, and said : “ I forbid you to tell the prince, or any 
other person, what you have seen. I wish to reward your goodness: 
ask of me a gift.”—“ Madam,” said Wakeful to her, “ I very 
much love the pyince, my master, and I wish from the bottom 
of my heart to be of service to him; thus I will ask of you to be 
invisible when I wish, that I may know which of the courtiers 
truly loves my prince.”—“ Your request is granted,” replied the 
fairy ; “ but it remains for me to pay the debts of Tity. Did you 
not borrow four guineas of your father ?”—“ He has returned them 
to me ” replied Wakeful: “he knows that it is disgraceful m 


PRINCE TITY 


177 


princes, not to discharge their debts, so he repaid me with the 
four guineas he received from the queen.”—“ I know this very 
well,” said the fairy: “ but I also know that the prince is very 
much grieved, that he could give you no more, for he feels that 
a prince should reward with generosity, and it is this debt which 
I wish to discharge; take this purse, which is full of gold, and 
carry it to your father; he will always find in it the same sum, 
provided he only takes out of it for good purposes.” 

At this moment, the fairy disappeared, and Wakeful went to 
carry the purse to his father, to whom he disclosed its secret 
properties. In the meantime, the judges, who had met together 
to condemn the old woman, were very much embarrassed, and 
they said to the queen “ Why do you wish us to condemn this 
woman ? She has not deceived your majesty; she expressly 
told you : ‘ I am a poor woman, and I have no diamonds ’ ” 

The queen, becoming enraged, told them : “ If you do not con¬ 
demn this witch, who has derided me, and caused me to spend un- 
profitably a great deal of money, in hiring horses, and paying the 
doctors, you shall have cause to repent it.” 

The judges said to themselves • “The queen is a wicked woman, 
if we disobey her, she will find means to destroy us; it is much 
better that the old woman should perish than we.” The judges 
then condemned the old woman to be burnt alive as a sorceress. 
There was but one of them, who declared that he had rather be 
burnt himself, than condemn an innocent person. A few days 
after, the queen procured false witnesses, who said this judge 
had slandered her ; he was deprived .of his office, and reduced to 


178 


PRINCE TITY. 


beggary, together with his wife and children. Wakeful took a 
large sum from the purse of his father, and giving it to the judge, 
he advised him to quit the country. In the meantime, Wakeful 
found out every thing, since he could render himself invisible; 
he learned many secrets, but as he was an honourable youth, he 
never related any thing which could injure any body, except it 
were necessary to serve his master. As he went often into the 
cabinet of the king, he heard all that the queen said to her hus¬ 
band. “ Is it not unfortunate for us that Tity is the elder 7 We 
shall lay up a great amount of treasure, which he will dissipate 
as soon as he becomes king; but Myrtillo, who is a good mana¬ 
ger, instead of touching these treasures, would increase them. 
Is there no way of disinheriting him ?”—“ We must tr 3 q” said the 
king, “ and if we cannot succeed, we must bury these treasures, 
lest he waste them.” 

Wakeful overheard also all those courtiers, who, to please the 
king and the queen, spoke ill of Tity, and praised Myrtillo to the . 
skies; then they would, after leaving the king, come to the 
prince, and tell him, that they had taken his part before the king 
and queen; but the prince, who knew the truth, through means 
of Wakeful, despised and laughed at them in his heart. There 
were at court four very honest people, who espoused the side of 
Tity, but they never boasted of it; on the contrary, they always 
exhorted him to love the king and queen, and be very obedient to 
them. 

. There was a neighbouring king, who had sent ambassadors to jj 
Stingy, upon a business of importance. The queen, according 


PRINCE TiTY 


179 


to her usual custom, wished not that Tity should appear before 
the ambassadors. She Requested him to go to a beautiful coun¬ 
try house, belonging to the king: “ Because,” added she, “ the 
ambassadors, without doubt, will desire to visit the house, and 
you must be there to do the honours of the place.” 

After Tity had departed, the queen prepared for the reception 
ot the ambassadors at as little expense as possible. She took a 
velvet petticoat, and gave it to the tailors, to make the backs of a 
dress for Stingy and Myrtillo; she made the fronts of new velvet; 
for the queen thought that the king and the prince being seated, 
no one would see the back of their dresses. To render them 
magnificent, she took the diamonds that she had found in the 
medlars, to serve as buttons for the dress of the king; she fas¬ 
tened to his hat the diamond she had found in the egg, and the 
small ones, which have come from the nuts, were employed to 
make buttons for the dress of Myrtillo, and a necklace, and sleeve- 
buttons for herself. In truth, they looked splendidly, with all 
their diamonds. Stingy and his wife placed themselves upon 
the throne, while Myrtillo placed himself at their feet; but 
scarcely had the ambassadors entered the hall of audience, than 
the diamonds disappeared, and there remained nothing but med 
lais, nuts, and a single egg. The ambassadors, believing tha> 
Stingy had attired himself in so ridiculous a manner to insult 
their master, departed in great rage, and said that their master 
should learn that he was indeed but a king of medlars. It was 
in vain to call them back; they would listen to nothing, but re¬ 
turned to their own country. Stingy and his wife were very 


180 


PRINCE TITY. 


much ashamed, and quite indignant. “It is Tity who has 
served us this turn,” said she to the king, when they were alone. 
“We must disinherit him, and leave our crown to Myrtillo.”—“ I 
agree with all my heart,” said the*king. 

At this moment, they heard a voice, saying to them. “ If you 
are wicked enough to do this, I will break all your bones, one 
after another.” They were in a great fright at hearing this 
voice, for they knew not that Wakeful was in their cabinet, and 
that he had overheard their conversation. So they dared do no 
evil to Tity, but they caused search to be made for the old wo¬ 
man in every direction, that they might put her to death, but 
they were unable to find her. King Violent, who had sent the 
ambassadors to Stingy, really believed that he had intended to 
insult him, and. resolved to take his revenge, by declaring war 
against Stingy. The latter, was very much alarmed, for he was 
deficient in courage, and was afraid of being killed; but the 
queen said to him: “ Do not afflict yourself, we will place Tity 
at the head of our army, under pretence of doing him honour; 
he is a rash fellow, who will be killed, and then we shall have 
the pleasure of leaving our crown to Myrtillo.” 

' The king* found this design an admirable one; having recalled 
Tity from the country, he named him commander in chief of 
all his troops, and to give him more frequent occasions of expo¬ 
sing his life, he granted to him full power to continue the war, 
or to conclude a peace 

Tity, having arrived at the frontiers of his father’s kingdom, • 
resolved to await the enemy, and employed himself, in the mean 


PRINCE TITY. 


181 


time, in building a fortress, commanding a narrow passage by 
which the enemy were obliged to enter. One day, while he was 
overlooking his soldiers at work, he became very thirsty, and 
seeing a house upon a neighbouring eminence, he went up to it 
to get something to drink ; the master of the house, who was 
called Abor, gave him what he wanted, and as the prince was 
about returning, she saw entering this house, a girl, so beautiful 
that he was dazzled at her charms. It was Biby, the daughter 
of Abor; and the prince, enraptured with this beautiful girl, re - 
turned often to the house under different pretexts. He frequently 
conversed with Biby, and finding her very prudent and sensible, 
he said to himself: “ If I were master of my own conduct, I 
would marry Biby; she is not, indeed, born a princess, but she 
possesses so many virtues that she is worthy of becoming a queen.” 

Every day he became more enamoured of her, and at last he 
took the resolution of writing to her. Biby, who knew that a 
virtuous girl ought not to receive letters from men, carried it un¬ 
opened to her father. Abor, perceiving that the prince was 
deeply in love with his daughter, asked her if she loved Tity 
Biby, who had never uttered a false word in her whole life, told 
her father that the prince had appeared such an honourable man, 
that she could not prevent herself from loving him: ‘‘but,” 
added she, “ I well know that he cannot marry me, since I am 
but a country girl; so I beg you to send me to my aunt, who 
resides far off from this.” 

Her father sent her off the same day, and the princ# was so 
grieved at her loss, that he fell sick. Abor said to him* “ My 


182 


PRINCE TITY. 


prince, I am very sorry to grieve you, but since you love my 
daughter, you would only wish to make her happy; vou know 
well that you would despise, as the dust you tread upon, a 
woman who would receive the visits of a lover, who wished not to 
marry her ”—“ Listen to me, Abor,” said the prince • “ I would 
rather die, than fail m respect to my father, m marrying without 
his permission; but promise me to take care of your daughter, 
and I promise you to marry her when I become king; I agree 
never to see her until that time.” 

At this moment, the fairy appeared in the chamber, and very 
much surprised the prince, for he had never seen her under her 
present form. “ I am the old woman you assisted,” said she to 
the prince “ You are so honourable a man, and Biby is so dis¬ 
creet, that I take you both under my protection. You will 
marry her m two years, but before this time, you will meet with 
many reverses; besides, I promise to visit you once a month, 
and bring Biby each time with me.” 

The prince was overjoyed at this promise, and resolved to seek 
tor glory, the better to please Biby King Violent appeared 
before him, and offered him battle, which Tity not only gained, 
but took Violent prisoner. Tity was advised to deprive him of 
his kingdom, but he said : “ I will not do it; his subjects, who- 
always love their own king better than a foreign one, will revolt, 
and restore him his crown. Violent will never forget- his im¬ 
prisonment, and this will produce a continual war, which must 
render two nations unhappy. I will, on the contrary, restore 
liberty to Violent, and demand nothing for doing so. I know 


PRINCE TITY 


183 


that he is generous, he will become my friend, and his friendship 
will avail us better than his kingdom, which does not belong to 
us. Thus I shall avoid a war, which must cost the lives of 
many thousand men ” 

What Tity had foreseen came to pass. Violent was so 
charmed at his generosity, that he swore an eternal alliance with 
King Stingy and his son 

But Stingy was very angry when he learned that his son had 
restored his liberty to Violent, without obliging him to pay a 
heavy ransom. The prince in vain represented to him, that as 
he had given him orders to act as he thought fit, it was his duty 
to pardon him. Tity, who loved and respected his father, fell 
. sick of mortification at having displeased him One day, while 
he was alone in his bed, not thinking that it was the first day of 
the month, he saw entering by the window, two pretty canary 
birds, and was very much surprised, when these two canaries, 
resuming theii natural figures, presented to his sight the forms 
I of the fairy and his dear Biby He was about thanking the 
: good fairy, when the queen entered his apartment, holding in her 
i arms a large cat which she dearly loved, since it caught the 
mice that devoured her provisions, and cost her a mere nothing to 
keep. 

As soon as the queen saw the canaries, she was vexed that 
| they should be suffered to run about, lest they should spoil the 
j furniture The prince told her that he would put them into a 
j cage But she replied, that she wished them caught immedi- 
: ately, as she loved them very much, and she would eat them foi 
j - 



184 


PRINCE TITY. 


her dinner. The prince, in despair, vainly expostulated, all the 
courtiers and domestics ran after the canaries, and none of them 
paid him the slightest attention. One of the footmen took a 
broom and smote to the earth poor Biby. The prince jumped 
out of bed to help her, but he would have arrived too late; for 
the cat belonging to the queen, had escaped from her arms, and 
was about killing her with a blow of its paw, when the fairy 
taking all of a sudden the figure of a large dog, leaped upon the 
cat and strangled her; then she assumed, as did also Biby, the 
form of a small mouse, and fled together through a little hole in 
the corner of the room. 

The prince fell fainting, at the sight of the danger which his 
dear Biby had escaped ; but the queen paid him no attention, 
she was only occupied with the death of her cat, for whom she 
uttered the loudest lamentations ; she told the king that she 
would kill herself, if he did not revenge the death of this poor 
animal; that Tity had intercourse with sorcerers, that he might 
mortify her; and that she would never have a moment’s peace 
till he was disinherited and the crown given to his brother. The 
king agreed to do what she requested, and said that on the mor¬ 
row he would cause the prince to be arrested and bring him to 
trial. 

The faithful Wakeful slumbered not on this occasion; he 
glided from the cabinet of the king, and went immediately to 
inform the prince. The fright which the latter had met with, 
had broken his fever, and he was about mounting his horse to 
save himself, when he saw the fairy, who said to him • “ I am 


PRINCE TITY. 


185 


tired of the wickedness of your mother, and the weakness of 
your father; I will furnish you with a powerful army; go, seize 
them in the palace, put them in prison with their son Myrtillo, 
ascend the throne, and marry Biby immediately.”—“ Madam,” 
said the prince to the fairy, “ you know that I love Biby better 
than my own life; but my desire of marrying her shall never 
make me forget what is due to my father and mother; I would 
sooner die instantly upon this spot than take up arms against 
them.”—“ Come, let me embrace you,” said the fairy; “ I wished 
to test your virtue; had you accepted my offers, I would have 
abandoned you for ever; but since you have had the strength to 
refuse them, I shall always be your friend; I am about to give 
you a proof of it. Take the form of an old man, and, sure of 
never being recognised under this figure, travel through your 
kingdom, inform yourself of all the injustice that is committed 
against your poor subjects, that you may repair them when you 
become king. Wakeful, who will remain at court, will render 
you a particular account of all that may happen in your absence.” 
The prince obeyed the fairy, and saw things that made him 
groan. Justice was bought and sold, governors pillaged the 
people, the powerful oppressed the weak, and all this was done m 
[the name of the king. At the end of two years, Wakeful wrote 
I to him, that his father was dead, and that the queen had wished 

I his brother to be crowned, but that the four lords, who were 
honourable men, had opposed it, because they were informed 
that he was still living; and he informed him also, that the queen 

had arrived safely with her son, in a province she had caused to 
9 



186 


PRINCE TITY 


revolt. Tity, who had resumed his own figure, entered his 
capital, and was recognised as king. After which, he wrote a 
very respectful letter to the queen, beseeching her not to excite 
a rebellion; he offered also a good pension to he* and his 
brother Myrtillo. The queen, who had a large army, wrote to 
him that she wanted the crown, and that she would come and 
snatch it from his head. This letter was not able to induce 
Tity to fail in the respect which he owed to his mother; but 
this wicked woman, having learned that King Violent was com¬ 
ing to the assistance of his friend Tity, with a great force, was 
obliged to accept the conditions of her son. This prince thus 
saw himself the peaceable possessor of his throne, and he mar¬ 
ried the beautiful Biby, to the satisfaction of all his subjects, who 
were delighted to have so lovely a queen. 

Tity being firmly established on his throne, commenced by 
establishing good order in the state. And to effect it, he gave 
directions that all who had any complaints to make him, of what- j 
ever kind of injustice, should be welcome. He forbade his 
guards to turn away any person who desired to speak with him, 
even if it were a beggar. “For,” said this good prince, “I am 
the father of all my subjects, the poor as well as the rich.” At ' 
first, the courtiers were not alarmed at this language ; they said . 

“ The king is quite young, this will not last a great while, he 
will acquire a taste for pleasure, and will be obliged to resign to 
his favourites the care of his business.” They were mistaken ! 
Tity husbanded his time so well, that he had sufficient for all, 
besides, the severity with which he punished his ministers, who 



PRINCE TITY. 


j 87 


had been convicted of injustice, obliged every cne to attend dili¬ 
gently to his duties. He sent ambassadors to King Violent, to 
thank him for the assistance he had proffered him. This prince 
informed him, that he would be delighted to see him once more, 
and that if he would come to the frontiers of his kingdom, he 
would most willingly attend there, to pay him a visit. As every 
thing was quiet in the kingdom of Tity. he accepted this offer, 
which suited a design he had formed. It was to ornament the 
small house, where he had seen his dear Biby for the first time. 
He therefore commanded his officers to purchase all the ground 
that surrounded it, but he forbade their using force to any person. 
“ For,” said he, “ I am not a king that I may commit violence 
against my subjects, and after all, every one should be master of 
his little inheritance.” In the meantime, Violent having arrived 
upon his frontiers, the two courts met together. They were 
brilliant: Violent had brought with him his only daughter, Eliza, 
who was the greatest beauty in the world, and possessed a cor¬ 
responding disposition. Tity had brought with him, in addition 
to his wife, one of his cousins, named Blanche, and who, besides 
being beautiful and virtuous, possessed a great deal of talent. 
As they were (so to speak,) in the country, the two kings de¬ 
clared that they would live in the greatest freedom; that most 
of the ladies and gentlemen would be permitted to sup with the 
two kings and their princesses ; and to do away with ceremony, 
they declared further, that the kings should not be addressed by 
the title of your majesty, and that those who did so, should pay 
a guinea as a forfeit They had scarcely been a quarter of an 


188 


PRINCE TITY. 


hour at table, when a little old woman, shabbily dressed, was seen 
to enter the hall. Tity and Wakeful, who immediately recog 
nised her, would have paid their respects, but from a glance of 
her eye, they perceived that she wished not to be known. They 
then said to King Violent and to the princesses, that they asked 
their permission to present one of their good friends, whom they 
had invited to supper. The old woman, without hesitation, 
placed herself upon a seat which was close to that of Violent, 
and which no person had taken out of respect to him. She said 
to the prince : “ As the friends of our friends are our friends, you 
see I use no ceremony with you.” Violent, who was naturally 
of a haughty disposition, was a little put out at the familiarity of 
this old woman, but he showed no sign of it. The good woman 
was informed of the forfeit to be paid, every time any one said 
your majesty , yet, scarcely had seated herself at table, when 
she said to Violent. “Your majesty appears surprised at the 
liberty I have taken; but it is an old custom of mine, and I am 
too old to correct it, so your majesty will have the goodness to 
pardon me”—“Your forfeit,” cried Violent: “you owe two 
guineas.”—“ Let not uour majesty be vexed,” said the old 
woman; “ I had forgot that I should not say your majesty; but 
does not your majesty think, that in forbidding us to say your 
majesty , you cause every one to recollect that he is constrained 
by this troublesome respect, which it is your wish to banish. It 
is as with those, who, to be familiar, say to those they receive at 
their table, although they are far beneath them ‘ Drink my 
health.’ There is nothing so impertinent, as this sort of kind 


PRINCE TITY. 


189 


ness. It is just as it they should sa^ to them Recollect, you 
are not allowed to drink my health, except I give you permission.’ 
This that I say, moreover, is not to exempt myself from the 
payment of my forfeit; I owe six guineas, here they are.” 
At the same time, she drew from her pocket, a purse, as much 
used, as if it had seen a hundred years’ service, and threw the 
six guineas upon the table Violent knew not whether to 
smile, or be vexed, at this speech of the old woman; he was 
apt to get angry at nothing, and his blood began to grow heated. 
Nevertheless, he resolved to constrain himself out of respect for 
Tity; and, treating the affair in a jesting manner. “ Well! my 
good mother,” said he to the old woman, “ speak according to 
your fancy, whether you say your majesty or not. I wish not 
the less to be one of your friends.”—“ I count it much,” said the 
old woman; “ and it is for this reason that I have taken the 
liberty of speaking my mind, for we cannot render a greater ser¬ 
vice to our friends, than by informing them what we see amiss.” 
—“You must not trust yourself to do so, there are times when 
I would not the most willingly receive such advice.”—“ Ac¬ 
knowledge, my prince,” said the old woman to him, “ that you 
are now not far removed from one of these moments ; and that 
you would give any thing, to have the liberty of sending me 
packing, at your good pleasure. See our heroes, they are in 
despair, whenever they are reproached with having fled before 
an enemy, and of giving up the victory without a contest; yet 
they acknowledge, with indifference, that they have not the firm¬ 
ness to resist their anger. As if it were not a greater shame 


’90 


PRINCE T1TY. 


weakly to yield to passionf than to an enemy it is not always 
in our power to overcome. But let us change the conversation, 
since it is not the most agreeable to you; allow me to introduce 
my pages, who have some presents to make to the company.” 
At this moment, she struck on the table, and four winged boys 
were seen entering through the four windows of the hall; the 
most beautiful creatures in the world ; each one bore a basket 
lull of different kinds of jewels, of astonishing richness. King 
Violent, having at the same time cast his eyes upon the old 
woman, was surprised to see her changed into a lady, so beauti¬ 
fully and magnificently adorned, that she dazzled his eyes ' Ah ! 
madam,” said he to the fairy, “ I recollect you as the dealer m 
medlars and nuts, who put me in so violent a passion ; pardon 
the slight respect I have shown you. I had not the honour of 
Knowing you.”—“ This ought to teach you, then, never to fail in 
respect for any person,’ replied the fairy. “ But, my prince, to 
show you that I have no rancour, I wish to make you two pres¬ 
ents ; the first is this goblet, made of a single diamond; but it 
is not this which renders it so precious. Whenever you are 
tempted to get into a passion, fill up this goblet with water, and 
drink of it at three different times, and you will find your anger 
subside and give place to reason. If you profit by this first 
present, you will render yourself worthy of the second. I know 
that you are in love with the princess Blanche; she finds you 
very agreeable, but she dreads your sudden bursts of temper, and 
will never marry you, except on condition of your making use of 
the goblet.” Violent, surprised that the fairy knew so well his 


PRINCE Til Y. 


19] 


defects and his inclinations, acknowledged that he would think 
mmself very happy in marrying Blanche , “ but,” added he 
“ there is one difficulty to surmount, even though I should be st 
happy as to obtain the consent of Blanche. I have always been 
afraid of marrying again, for fear of depriving my daughter of a 
crown.”—“ This feeling is honourable,” said the fairy: “ there 
are but few fathers capable of sacrificing their inclinations to the 
welfare of their children; but let not this prevent you. The king 
of Mongolan, who was one of my friends, has died without chil¬ 
dren, and, by my advice, he has bequeathed his crown in favour 
of Wakeful. He is not a prince by birth, but he deserves to be¬ 
come one ; he loves the princess Eliza, she is worthy to reward 
the fidelity of Wakeful, and if her father consents, I am sure she 
will obey him without hesitation.” Eliza blushed at this dis¬ 
course ; it is true that she had found Wakeful very agreeable, 
and had listened, with pleasure, to what had been related to her 
of his fidelity to his master. “ Madam,” said Violent, “ I am 
accustomed to speak my mind openly; I esteem Wakeful, and 
if custom did not bind my hands, his want of royal birth would 
not prevent my giving him my daughter; but men, and particu¬ 
larly kings, ought to respect prevailing usages; and it would be 
to impair those usages, were I to give my daughter to a simple 
gentleman; she comes from one of the most ancient families, 
for you know very well, that for three hundred years we have 
been seated upon this throne.”—“ My prince,” said the fairy to 
him, “ do you not know that the family of Wakeful is as old as 
your own; since you had the same ancestor, and that you come 


192 


PRINCE TITY. 


from two brothers. Wakeful ought to have the priority, for he 
is descended of the elder, and your father from the younger.”— 
“ If you will prove this to me, said King Violent,” I .swear to 
give my daughter to Wakeful, although the subjects of the for 
mer king of Mongolan refuse to acknowledge him for theii 
sovereign.”—“ Nothing is easier than to prove the antiquity of 
the family of Wakeful,” said the fairy: “ he is descended from 
Elisha, the eldest of the sons of Japheth, son of Noah, who es¬ 
tablished himself in Peloponnesus; and you are descended from 
the second son of the same Japheth.” Every one had the greatest 
difficulty in suppressing a burst of laughter, at hearing the fairy 
so seriously ridicule King Violent. As for him, his anger was 
beginning to afflict his senses, when the princess Blanche, who 
was at his side, presented the goblet of diamond; he drank it at 
three several times, as the fairy had directed ; and during this in¬ 
terval, he thought to himself, that in truth, all men were really 
equal in their birth, since they all came from Noah, and that 
there was no true difference among them, except such as was 
produced by their virtues. Having finished his glass, he said to 
the fairy “ Indeed, madam, I am under great obligations to you ; 
you have corrected me of two great faults : my pride on the 
subject of nobility, and my tendency to passion. I admire the 
properties of the goblet you have given me ; I drank, I perceived 
my anger decline, and the reflections which I made in the inter¬ 
vals of the three times I drank, have rendered me reasonable.”— 

“ I will not deceive you,” said the fairy , “there is no virtue in 
the goblet I have given you, and I wish/to teach the whole of 


PRINCE TITY. 


193 


this company in what consists the witchcraft of this water, drank 
at three times. A reasonable man would never become enraged, 
if this passion did not take him by surprise, and leave him no 
time for reflection; but in taking the trouble to fill this glass 
with water, and drinking at three intervals, we take time , the 
senses grow calm, reflection comes, and when this ceremony is 
finished, reason has had time to prevail over passion ”—“ In 
truth,” said Violent to her, “ I have learned more to-day, than 
m the whole of my life. Happy Tity, you will become the 
greatest prince in the world, with such a protectress; but I beg 
of you to employ the power you have over the mind of madam, 
to make her recollect that she has promised to be my friend.”— 
“ I recollect it too well to forget it,” said the fairy. “ T have given 
you some proofs of it, and I will continue to do so, as long as 
you are docile, and this I hope will be the case to the end of 
your life. To-day let us think of nothing but of devising how to 
celebrate your marriage, and that of the princess Eliza’s.” At 
this moment, Tity was informed that the officers, who were 
charged with the purchase of all the houses and ground which 
surrounded that of Biby, desired to speak with him. He com¬ 
manded them to enter, and , they showed him the design of the 
work which they wished to have done to this small house : they 
had added to it a large garden, and a beautiful park, which would 
have been perfect, if they could have torn down a small cottage, 
which stood in the middle of one of the alleys of the park, and 
spoiled its symmetry. “ And why have you not removed this 

blemish ?” said Violent, speaking to the officers and architects 
9 * 


194 


PRINCE TITY. 


“ My lord,” replied they to him, “ pur king has forbidden us tc 
use constraint to any one ; but one man refuses to sell his house 
although we have offered to pay him four times its value.”—“ If 
this scoundrel were my subject, I would hang him,” said Vio 
lent. “ You must empty your goblet immediately,” said the 
fairy. “ I believe that the goblet would not save his life,” replied 
Violent; “for indeed, is it not horrible that a king should not 
be master in his own states, but that he should be compelled to 
abandon a work, which he desires to effect, through the obsti¬ 
nacy of a wretch, who ought to think himself too happy in making 
his fortune, while he obliged his master, without compelling him 
to contract or abandon his plans ?”—“ I will do neither one n,or 
the other,” said Tity, laughing: “ and I foresee that this house 
will be the greatest ornament in my park.”—“ Oh ! I defy you,” 
said Violent; “ it is so placed, that it can have no other effect 
than to spoil it.”—“ See what I will do,” said Tity : “ it shall be 
surrounded by a wall, sufficiently high to prevent this man 
entering my park, but not so much so as to spoil his prospect, 
for it would not be right to shut him up, as in a prison ; this wall 
shall be continued <?n two sides, and on it shall be written these 
words in letters of gold :— 4 A king, who caused this park to be 
built, chose rather to leave this defect, than to commit an act of 
injustice towards one of his subjects, by ravishing from him the 
inheritance of his forefathers, over which he had no other right 
than that of superior strength.’ ”—“ All that I see confounds me,” 
said Violent: “ I acknowledge I have not even an idea of the 
heroic virtues which form great men. Yes, Tity, this wall will 


PRINCE T1TY 


195 


be the ornament of your park, and the noble action of raising it, 
will be the ornament of your life. But, madam, how comes it 
that Tity so naturally gives birth to great virtues, of which I 
have not even an idea, as I have acknowledged—“ Great 
king,” replied the fairy to him, “ Tity, brought up by parents 
who could not endure him, always has been contradicted ; conse¬ 
quently, he has become accustomed to yield his own will to that 
of others, in all indifferent matters. As he had no power in 
his kingdom, during the life of his father*, he could bestow no 
favours ; and as it was known that the king desired to disinherit 
him, flatterers did not deign to spoil him, because they believed 
they had nothing to hope or to fear from him. They left him to 
those honest people whom a sense of duty alone attached to his 
person, and in their company he has learned that a king, who is 
an absolute master, when good is to be done, ought to have his 
hands tied when he is desirous of doing evil; that he rules over 
freemen, and not over slaves; that the people would not have 
submitted to their equals in giving them a crown, save only that 
they might have fathers, protectors of the laws, and a refuge foi 
the poor and oppressed. You have never heard these great 
truths. A king at the early age of twelve, your governors, to 
whom your education was confined, thought of nothing but of 
making their fortune, by gaining your favour. Your pride was 
called a noble elevation , your fits of anger, excusable vivacities 
In one word, they have caused to this day your own misfor 
tune, and the evils of your own subjects, whom you have looked 
upon and treated as slaves, because you thought they were ere- 


196 


PRINCE TITY. 


ated only to obey your caprices, m place of which, you yourself 
are but made to protect and defend them.” Violent, convinced 
of the truths which the fairy had spoken, instructed himself in 
his duties, and endeavoured to conquer himself, so as to fulfil 
them. He was encouraged in these good resolutions by the ex¬ 
ample of Tity and Wakeful, who preserved upon the throne 
those virtues they had brought there. 






PRINCE FATAL AND PRINCE FORTUNE. 

here was a queen, who had two sweet pretty 
boys ; and a fairy, who was the queen’s intimate 
friend, was invited to stand godmother to them, 
and make them some gift. “ I endow the 
eldest,” s^id she, “ with all manner of misfor¬ 
tunes till he is five and twenty, and I name him Fatal.” At 
these words, the queen gave a loud cry, and entreated the fairy 
to change her gift. “ You do not know what you ask,” said she 
to the queen; “ if he do not meet with misfortunes, he will be 
wicked ” The queen durst say no more, but begged the fairy to 



197 













198 


FATAL AND FORTUNE. 


let her choose for the second son. “ Perhaps you will choose 
wrong,” replied the fairy; “ but no matter: I am willing to grant 
whatever you ask me for him.”—“ I wish,” said the queen, “ that 
he may succeed in whatever he undertakes ; ’tis the way for 
him to be perfect.”—“ Perhaps you may be mistaken,” said the 
fairy, “ and for that reason I grant him this gift no longer than 
till he is five and twenty.” Nurses were provided for the young 
princes ; but the third day the nurse of the eldest was taken ill 
of a fever : he had another, and she fell down and broke her leg 
and a third lost her milk as soon as Prince Fatal was put to the 
breast: and it being spread abroad that Prince Fatal was unfor 
tunate in his nurses, nobody would suckle, or so much as come 
near him. The poor child was hungry, and cried, but met with 
no pity : at last, a mean homely countrywoman, who was very 
poor, and had a large, family of children, which she could scarcely 
maintain, came and offered to bring him up, provided they would 
give her a large sum of money; and as the king and queen did 
not love Prince Fatal, they gave her what she asked, and bid her 
take him home to her village. The youngest prince, who was 
named Fortune, on the contrary, thrived surprisingly; his papa 
and mamma doted upon him, and never thought of the eldest. The 
wicked woman to whom they had given poor Fatal, no soonei 
got home, than she took off his fine swaddling clothes to bestow 
them on a son of her own, about Fatal’s age; and having wrapped 
the poor prince in an old petticoat, she carried him into a wood, 
and left him to be devoured by the wild beasts : but a lioness, 
that had three young whelps, brought him into her den, and gave 


FATAL AND FORTUNE. 199 

him suck; which made him grow so fast and strong, that at six 
months he could run alone. In the meantime, the nurse’s son, 
whom she passed for the prince, died, and the king and queen 
were glad that they got rid of him. Fatal remained in the woods 
till he was two years old; when a nobleman, an officer of the 
court, as he was hunting, was astonished to find a lovely boy in 
the midst of wild beasts. He was moved to pity, took him 
home ; and hearing that a child was wanted as a companion to 
play with Prince Fortune, he presented Fatal to the queen. 

Fortune had a master to teach him to read; but this mastei 
was charged not to make him cry. The young prince heard this, 
and cried every time he took his book in hand, so that at five 
years of age he could hardly tell his letters; while Fatal, on the 
contrary, read perfectly well, and had already made some pro¬ 
gress in writing. To frighten the prince, his master was ordered 
to whip Fatal whenever Fortune neglected his lesson; so that it 
was in vain for Fatal to be good, and apply himself to his book 
he could not escape punishment: besides, Fortune was so ill-na¬ 
tured and wilful, that he used his brother very ill, though indeed, 
he did not know he was his brother. If Fatal had an apple 
or plaything, Fortune would snatch it away. He obliged him to 
be silent when he wanted to speak, and would make him talk 
when he wished to hold his tongue; in a word, he was a little 
martyr, and pitied by no one. They lived together in this man¬ 
ner till their eleventh year, when the queen was amazed at her 
son’s ignorance. “ Certainly,” said she, “ the fairy has deceived 
me. I imagined my son would be the most learned that ever 


200 


FATAL AND FORTUNE. 


was since I wished him to succeed in whatever he undertook ” 
Accordingly she went to consult the fairy about the matter, who 
said to her: “ Madam, you should have desired a willing mind 
and virtuous inclinations for your son, rather than great talents, 
all his endeavours are to be wicked, and your majesty is a wit¬ 
ness of the great progress he has made.” After having said this, 
she turned from her, and the poor aueen returned to the palace 
in the utmost affliction. 

She hastened to reprove Fortune, in order to make him better. 
out instead of promising amendment, he told her that if they 
vexed him he would starve himself. The queen at this, fright¬ 
ened out of her senses, took him upon her knee, kissed him, 
gave him sweetmeats, and assured him that he should not leaipi 
any thing for a whole week, if he would eat his victuals as usual. 
All this time Fatal improved so much, that he was quite a wonder 
of learning and mildness of temper; he had been so used to be 
contradicted, that, in a manner, he had no will of his own; and 
he thought himself happy if he could but prevent the ill effects 
of Fortune’s capricious humours; but this sad child, enraged to 
see that Fatal improved more than himself, could not bear the 
sight of him; and the tutors, to please their young master, beat 
poor Fatal every moment. At last, this wicked boy told the 
queen, that he would not have Fatal live with him any longer, 
and that he would not eat a morsel till he was sent away; so 
that poor Fatal was turned into the street, no one daring to take 
him in for fear of displeasing the prince. 

He passed the night under a tree, half dead with cold, (it was 


h ATAL AND FORTUNE 


201 


winter,) with only a bit of bread for his supper, which some good 
person or other had given him out of charity. As soon as it was 
daylight, he said to himself: “ I will not stay here doing nothing, 
but try if I cannot get my living till I am big enough to be a 
soldier. I remember to have read, m history, ol several common 
men, who have afterwards been made great generals; and per¬ 
haps, if I behave well, I may have the same good fortune ’tis 
true I have neither father nor mother; but God himself is the 
father of orphans, and he that gave me a lioness for my nurse, 
surely will not forsake me now.” Having said this, Fatal kneeled 
down to say his prayers, for he never missed saying them night 
and morning, and always when he prayed, he fixed his eyes on 
the ground, with his hands lifted up and joined together, and 
neither turned his head one way nor the other 

While Fatal was on his knees, a countryman chanced to be 
going by ; and seeing him pray so earnestly, said to himself: “ I 
am sure this must be a good child ; I have a great mind to have 
him to take care of my sheep, and God will bless me for his 
sake.” So he waited till Fatal had ended his prayer, and then 
said to him ; “ Little boy, will you come and live with me, and 
mind my sheep? I will keep you and take care of you.”— 
‘‘'With all my heart,” said Fatal, “ and I will do all in my power 
to serve you honestly.” This countryman was a wealthy farmer, 
and had a great many servants, who wronged their master; and, 
indeed, so did his wife and children. They were mightily pleased 
when they saw Fatal “ for,” said they, “ this is but a child, and 
we can do whatever we will with him.” One day the farmer’s 


202 FATAL AND FORTUNE. 

wife said to him: “ Child, my husband is a miser, and never 
gives me any money; let me take a sheep, and you shall tell 
him the wolf ran away with it”—“ Madam,” replied Fatal, “I 
would with all my heart do any thing to serve you, but I had 
rather die than be a thief and a liar.”—“You are a fool,” said 
she; “who will know it?”—“Oh! madam,” Fatal answered, 
“ God will know it; for he sees whatever we do, and punishes 
those who lie and steal.” At these words, his mistress lost all 
patience; she flew upon him, beat him, and tore the hair of his 
head. The farmer, hearing Fatal cry, came and asked his wife 
what made her beat him in that manner. “ Why, truly,” said 
she, “ because he is a glutton : the little greedy rascal has this 
morning eaten up a pot of cream which I was going to carry to 
market.”—“ O fie !” said the farmer, “ I cannot bear liquorish 
people;” and immediately he called one of his servants, and 
ordered him to whip Fatal; and all that the boy could say to 
justify himself signified nothing; his mistress insisted that she 
saw him eat the cream, and she was believed. After this, he was 
sent into the fields to tend the sheep, and his mistress went to 
him, and said : “ Well! will you give me one of the sheep now ?” 
—“ No, indeed,” replied Fatal; “I should be sorry to do any 
such thing; you may use me as you please, but you shall never 
make me guilty of an untruth.” So finding him resolute, this 
wicked woman, out of revenge, set all the other servants against 
him; they made him stay out late in the fields, and instead of 
giving him victuals, like the rest, she only sent him bread and 
water; and, when he came home, laid to his charge all the mis- 


FATAL AND FORTUNE. 


203 


chief that was done in the family. He stayed a year at the farm¬ 
er’s ; and though he lay on the ground, and was but indiffer 
ently fed, yet he grew so strong and tall, that at thirteen years of 
age, any one would have supposed him to be fifteen; besides, 
he was become so patient, that he bore all their ill-usage with 
the utmost calmness and meekness. One day, while he was at 
the farm, he heard that a king of a neighbouring country was at 
war, and wanted'soldiers. Fatal went and asked his master to 
let him go; and having got leave, he travelled on foot to this 
prince’s territories, where he enlisted himself under a captain, 
who, though he was a great nobleman, behaved more like a 
porter or a drayman than a person of quality: he swore, beat his 
soldiers, and cheated them of their pay; and with this officer 
Fatal was more miserable than at the farmer’s. He had engaged 
for ten years; and though he saw the greatest number of his 
comrades desert, yet he would never follow their example ; “ for,” 
said he, “I have received money to serve ten years, and it would 
be wronging the king to go away before my time is expired.” Not¬ 
withstanding this captain was a bad man, and used Fatal no 
better than the rest, yet he could not help esteeming him, be¬ 
cause he saw that he always did his duty: and he would send 
him on his messages, and intrust him with money, and give him 
the key of his room whenever he dined abroad, or went into the 
country: and though he did not love reading, he had a large 
library, to make people believe he was a man of great sense and 
learning; for in that country they despised an ignorant officer, 
and looked upon such as did not know something of books, or 


204 


FATAL AND FORTUNE. 


at least of history, as unfit for any military action of impor¬ 
tance 

When Fatal had done his duty as a soldier, instead of going 
vO game and drink with his comrades, he would lock himself up 
m the captain’s room, and there endeavour to learn his profession, 
by reading the lives of great men, till at last he became capable 
of commanding an army. He had been seven years enlisted, 
when his regiment was ordered to the field : his captain took him 
and six others, and went to reconnoitre a wood; and when they 
were in the midst of it, the soldiers said one to another: “ Let us 
kill this wficked fellow, who is always caning us, and cheats us 
of our pay.” Fatal represented the baseness of such an action, 
and dissuaded them from it; but instead of hearkening to him, they 
said they would kill him and the captain too, and immediately 
drew their swords. Fatal placed himself before the captain, and 
fought with so much bravery, that he alone slew four of the sol¬ 
diers. His captain, seeing he owed his life to Fatal, asked his 
pardon for all the wrong he had done him; and having informed 
the king of what had happened, Fatal was made a captain, and 
the king gave him a considerable pension. 

Now, none of the soldiers ever wanted to kill Fatal; he loved 
them as if they were his own children, and they had the same 
affection for him as for a father . instead of defrauding them of 
their pay, he gave them money out of his own pocket, to encour¬ 
age them when they behaved well; was careful and tender of 
them when they were sick or wounded, and never found fault 
with them out of caprice and ill-humour. About that time a 


FATAL AND FORTUNE 


205 


great battle was fought, and the commander in chief being slain, 
all the officers and soldiers fled; but Fatal cried out that he had 
rather die fighting, than fly meanly like a coward; and his sol¬ 
diers told him they would not forsake him ; and their example 
had so good an effect with the others, that they all came back, 
arranged themselves round Fatal, and fought with such sue 
cess, that the son of the king of their enemies was taken prisoner. 
The other king was greatly rejoiced when he heard he had gained 
the victory, and told Fatal he made him general of all his armies. 
Afterwards he presented him to the queen, and to the princess 
his daughter, who gave him their hands to kiss ; but at the sight 
of the princess, Fatal was struck motionless like a statue; she 
was so beautiful, that he fell in love with her to distraction; and 
then he was unhappy indeed, for he thought that such a one as 
he, must have no hopes of marrying a princess; he resolved, for 
that reason, to conceal his affection, and daily underwent the ut¬ 
most torture. But it was much worse when he was informed 
that Fortune was also m love with Princess Graciosa, (for that 
was her name,) having seen her picture, and that an ambassador 
was arrived to ask her in marriage. Fatal was ready to die with 
grief; but Princess Graciosa, who knew that Fortune was a 
base and wicked prince, entreated her father with such earnest¬ 
ness not to force her to the match, that the ambassador was told, 
the princess did not choose to marry yet. Fortune, who had 
never been used to be contradicted, fell into a most violent pas¬ 
sion, when they returned with the princess’s answer; and his 
father, who could not deny him any thing, declared war against 




206 


FATAL AND FORTUNE. 


the father of Graciosa. But he was not much concerned about 
it; “ for,” said he, “ while Fatal is at the head of my army, I am 
not at all afraid of being overcome.” So, having sent for his 
general, he told him the affair, and bid him prepare for war. 
Fatal, at this, threw himself at his feet, and said, that “ he was 
born in the dominions of Prince Fortune’s father, and could not 
take up arms against his sovereign.” But the king was very 
angry, and threatened to put him to death if he refused to obey 
him; and, on the contrary, promised to give him his daughter in 
marriage, if he defeated Fortune. This was a sad temptation to 
poor Fatal. However, he at last resolved to do his duty; and, 
therefore, without saying any thing to the king, he quitted the 
court, and forsook all his riches and great expectations. Fortune, 
soon after, put himself at the head of the army, and took the 
field; but before five days were at an end, he fell ill with fatigue, 
for he was very delicate and tender; and having never been used 
to any hardships, or to take any exercise, he could not bear heat 
or cold; in short, every thing made him sick. 

About this time, the ambassador who had been sent to de¬ 
mand Graciosa for Fortune, in order to make his court to the 
prince, told him that he saw the little boy that had been turned 
out of his palace, at the court of Graciosa’s father, and that it 
was generally reported, he had promised him his daughter in 
marriage. Fortune, at this piece of intelligence, fell into a most 
terrible fit of passion; and as soon as he was recovered, he set 
out, fully resolved to dethrone the father of Graciosa, and promised 
a great reward to whoever should take Fatal, either dead or 


FATAL AND FORTUNE. 


207 


alive. Fortune gained several great victories, though he did not 
fight himself—for he was afraid of being killed—but he had able 
and experienced commanders. At last, he besieged the capital 
of the enemy, and was preparing to take it by storm, when, on 
the eve of the intended assault, Fatal was brought before him, 
bound in chains, (for great numbers of people had been sent m 
search of him). Fortune rejoiced at this opportunity of exerci¬ 
sing his revenge, and gave orders for him to be beheaded, before 
they stormed the town, m sight of the enemy. That very day 
he gave a grand entertainment to his officers, to celebrate his 
birthday, being now twenty-five years complete. The besieged, 
hearing Fatal was taken, and was to hive his head struck off in 
an hour, resolved to deliver him or perish, for they remembered 
how kind he had been to them while lie was their general: they 
asked the king’s leave to sally out, and were victorious. For 
tune’s gift of prosperity was now over, and in his flight from the 
enemy he was killed. The conquerors ran to unbind Fatal; and at 
the same moment, they saw two glittering chariots appear in the 
air, in one of which, was seated the fairy, and in the other 
Fatal’s father and mother, who were both fast asleep. They did 
not awake till just as the chariot touched the ground, and were 
greatly surprised to find themselves m the midst of an army. 
The fairy then addressing herself to the queen, and presenting 
Fatal to her, said : “ Madam, in this hero behold your eldest son * 
the misfortunes he has undergone, have corrected the defects of 
his temper, which was naturally violent and unruly; whereas, 
Fortune, who, on the contrary, was born with excellent inclina- 


208 


FATAL AND FORTUNE. 


lions, has been utterly spoiled by indulgence and flattery; and 
God would not permit him to live any longer, because he 
would only have grown more wicked every day he lived. He 
is just now killed; but, to comfort you for his death, know 
that, impatient of ascending the throne, he was on the point of 
dethroning his father.” The king and queen were greatly as¬ 
tonished, and embraced Fatal very affectionately, having heard 
great commendations of him. Princess Graciosa and her father 
were delighted with the discovery of Prince Fatal’s rank. He 
married Graciosa, and they lived together to a good old age, per¬ 
fectly happy and perfectly virtuous. 






THE INTELLECTUAL PRINCE. 

here was one time a fairy, who wished to marry 
a certain king; but. as her reputation was very 
bad, the king chose rather to expose himself to 
all her wrath, than to become the husband of 
a woman whom nobody esteemed: for there is 
nothing so vexatious, for an honourable man, as to see his wife 
despised. A good fairy, who was named Adamant , induced this 
prince to marry a young princess whom she had brought up, 
and promised to defend him against the fairy Fury. But some 
time afterwards, Fury having been appointed queen of the fairies, 



io 


209 














210 


THE INTELLECTUAL PRINCE 


her power far surpassing that of Adamant, gave her the means 
of being avenged. She placed herself at the bedside of the 
queen, and bestowed upon the son she introduced into the world 
an ugliness that nothing could exceed. Adamant, who was con¬ 
cealed behind the curtains of the queen’s bed, after Fury had 
departed, endeavoured to console her. “ Be of good courage,” 
said she to her : “ in spite of the malice of your enemy, your son 
will one day be very happy. You will call him Intellectual; and 
not only will he have all possible talent, but in addition to this, 
he will be able to bestow the same upon whatever person he may 
love best.” But the little prince was so ugly, that no one could look 
at him without fright; whether he laughed or whether he cried, 
he made such hideous faces, that the little children, who were 
brought to play with him, became frightened, and called him 
beast. When he came to the use of his reason, every body 
desired to hear him speak; but this shut their eyes, and the 
people, who, for the most times, do not know what they want, 
took so strong a dislike to Intellectual, that the queen, having 
had a second son, they obliged the king to name him for the 
heir; for in this country, the people had the right to choose 
their own rulers. Intellectual, without a murmur, yielded the 
crown to his brother; and, disgusted at the folly of men, who 
only thought of the beauty of the body, without caring for that, 
of the mind, retired into a lonely place, where, applying himself 
to the study of wisdom, he became extremely happy. This was 
not the intention of the fairy Fury; she wished to render him 
miserable, and this is the way she took to destroy his happiness * 


THE INTELLECTUAL PRINCE. 


211 


She had* a son named Enchanting; she adored him, although 
he was the greatest dunce in the world. As she wished to make 
him happy, at any rate, she stole away a princess, who was per¬ 
fectly beautiful; but, that she might not be disgusted at the folly 
of Enchanting, she made her as foolish as him. This princess, 
who was called Bright Star , lived in the same palace with En¬ 
chanting, and although they were over sixteen, she never could 
teach them to read. Fury had the picture of this princess painted, 
and carried the portrait to the small house where Intellectual 
lived. The malice of Fury was attended with success; and 
although Intellectual knew that the princess Bright Star was in 
the palace of his enemy, he became so much in love, that he 
resolved to go there ; but, at the same time, recollecting his ug¬ 
liness, he plainly saw that he should.be the most unfortunate of 
men, since he was sure of appearing horrible in the eyes of this 
beautiful girl. He resisted for a long time the desire he had of 
seeing her, but at last love prevailed over reason. He departed 
with his servant, and Fury was delighted to see him take this 
resolution, as she could thus have the pleasure of tormenting him 
with more convenience to herself. Bright Star was walking in 
the garden with Adamant, her governess. When she saw the 
prince approach, she screamed out, she hid her face between 
her hands, and said to the fairy: “ My dear nurse, drive away 
this hideous man; he will kill me with fright.” The prince en¬ 
deavoured to take advantage of the time, while her eyes were 
closed, to make her a well-turned compliment; but he mighi 
as well have spoken Greek; she was too stupid to understand 


212 


THE INTELLECTUAL PRINCE. 


him. At this moment, Intellectual heard Fury laughing with all 
her might, and sneering at him. “You have done well enough 
for the first time,” said she to the prince: “ you can retire into 
an apartment I have prepared for you, and from whence you 
will have the pleasure of seeing the princess at your conveni¬ 
ence.” You think, perhaps, that Intellectual employed himself 
in retorting the insults of this wicked creature; but he had too 
much sense for this: he knew that she wished to vex him, and 
he would not give her the pleasure of seeing him out of temper. 
He was, however, deeply afflicted; but his situation became worse 
when he heard a conversation between Bright Star and En¬ 
chanting ; for they said so many stupid things, that she no longer 
appeared to him half so handsome; and he resolved to forget 
her, and return to his solitude. He wished, before doing this, to 
take his leave of Adamant. What was his surprise, when the 
fairy told him he must by no means quit the palace, and that she 
knew the way of making him beloved by the princess. “ I am 
very much obliged to you, madam,” replied the prince : “ but I 
am in no haste, to marry. I acknowledge that Bright Star is 
charming, yet it is only when she does not speak. The fairy 
Fury has cured me, by allowing me to overhear one of her con¬ 
versations : I will carry away with me her portrait, which is 
admirable, because it is silent.”—“You have done wrong to de¬ 
spise her,” said Adamant: “your happiness depends on your 
marrying the princess.”—“ I assure you, madam, I will never do 
so, unless I become deaf; besides, I must lose my memory, or 
otherwise I can never forget the tone of her conversation. I 


the Intellectual prince. 


213 


would a hundred times rather marry a woman more ugly than 
myself, if it were possible to find such, than a stupid one with 
whom I could have no reasonable conversation, and who would 
make me tremble whenever I was in company with her, for fear 
of having her give utterance to some silly speech every time she 
opened her mouth. 1 ’—“ Your fright diverts me,” said Adamant: 
“ but, prince, learn a secret known only to your mother and my¬ 
self. I have endowed you with the power of bestowing talent 
upon the person you love best; thus you have nothing but to 
wish it, and Bright Star becomes a most intelligent person. She 
will thus be perfect; she is the best-tempered in the world, and 
her heart is excellent.”—“ Ah, madam !” said Intellectual, “ you 
are about to render me miserable. Bright Star will become too 
lovely for my peace, and I will be utterly unable to please her; 
but it matters not, I will sacrifice my happiness to hers, and I 
wish her all the intellect I can bestow.”—This is truly gener¬ 
ous,” said Adamant; “ and I hope this noble act will not go un¬ 
rewarded ; meet me in the palace-garden at midnight; it is the 
time when Fury is obliged to take her rest, and for three hours 
she loses all her power.” The prince having left her, Adamant 
went to the chamber of Bright Star; she found her seated, her 
head buried in her hands like a person who is thinking intensely; 
Adamant having addressed her, Bright Star replied to her, and 
said: “ Ah, madam! if you could see what is passing in me, 
you would be very much surprised : since the last few moment.Sj 
I have been, as it were, in a new world; I reflect, I think, my 
thoughts arrange themselves in a form that gives me a great deal 


214 THE INTELLECTUAL PRINCE. 

of pleasure, and I feel very much ashamed, when I recall my 
repugnance to books and knowledge.”—“ Well,” said Adamant to 
her “ you can correct yourself; you will in two days marry the 
prince Enchanting.”—“ He is stupid, so stupid that he makes 
me tremble to think of him; but'tell me, I pray you, why have 
I not sooner found out the stupidity of this prince '“ It is be¬ 

cause you were foolish yourself,” said the fairy : “ but see ! here 
comes Enchanting himself.” In truth, he entered the chamber 
with a nest full of sparrows in his hat. “ Keep them,” said he : 
“ I have made my master quite ai%ry at me, because, instead of 
saying my lesson, I have\been stealing this nest.”—“But your 
master is right to get angry,” said Bright ^Star to him: “ it is 
shameful for a boy, of your age, not to know how to read.”— 
“ Oh ! you plague me as much as he,” replied Enchanting: “ I 
am tired of this learning; as for me, I like my kite and my ball 
far better than all your musty books. Good-by, I am going to 
fly my kite.”—“ And must I be the wife of this stupid dunce ?” 
said Bright Star, after he had gone out. “ What a difference there 
is between this prince, and him I saw but a little while ago ! It 
is true, he is very ordinary, but when I recall his conversation, 
he no longer appears to me so disgusting. Why has he not such 
a fake as Enchanting ? But, after all, what use is a handsome 
face ? A fit of sickness may destroy it, old age certainly takes 
it away, and what is then left to those who have no mind ? In 
truth, my dear nurse, if I must choose, I could rather love this 
prince, in spite of his ugliness, than this stupid fellow who 
wishes to many me.”—“I am glad to find you think in so just 


THE INTELLECTUAL PRINCE. 


215 


a manner,” said Adamant: “ but I have one piece of advice to 
give you; conceal carefully from Fury all your talent; every 
thing is lost, if you let her know the change that is wrought 
in you.” 

Bright Star obeyed her governess ; and as soon as the clock 
struck twelve, the good fairy proposed to the princess to go 
down into the garden; they seated themselves upon a bench, 
and Intellectual failed not to join them. What was his joy 
when he heard Bright Star speak, and became convinced that he 
had bestowed upon her as much talent as he possessed himself? 
Bright Star, on her part, was delighted with the conversation of 
the prince. * 

But when Adamant informed her of the obligation she was 
under to Intellectual, her gratitude made her forget his ugli¬ 
ness, although she saw it perfectly by the light of the moon. 
“ How much I am indebted to you !” said she to him: “ how can 
I ever repay the kindness?”—“You can do it very easily,” re¬ 
plied the fairy, “ by becoming the wife of Intellectual; there is 
nothing prevents your giving him as much beauty as he has 
given you mind.”—“ I should grow tired of it,” replied Bright 
Star: “ Intellectual pleases me as he is; I will not take the 
trouble to make "him handsome; he is agreeable to me, and that 
is enough.”—“ Your misfortunes are over,” said Adamant: “ had 
^you yielded to the temptation of making him handsome, you 
would have remained subject to Fury; but now you have nought 
to fear from her rage. I am about to transport you to the king¬ 
dom of Intellectual: for his brother is dead, and the hatred that 


216 


THE INTELLECTUAL PRINCE 


Fury had incited in the people against him, no longer prevails.” 
Indeed, they saw Intellectual return with joy; and he had 
scarcely dwelt in his kingdom three months, before they became 
accustomed to his face, but could never sufficiently admire his 

talents. 




BELOTE AND L AIDRONNETTE. 


here was one time a nobleman, who had two 
twm-daughters, to whom he had given names 
that suited them perfectly. The eldest, who 
was very handsome, was named Belote, (or 
handsome,) and the second, who was very ordi¬ 
nary, was called Laidronnette (ugly). He gave them masters, 
and until the age of twelve years, they applied themselves to 
their studies. But then their mother did a very foolish thing; 
for, without thinking that there remained a great many things for 
them to learn, she carried them with her to parties. As the two 



10* 


217 

























BELOTE AND LAIDRONNETTE. 


4 ? 18 

girls loved to amuse themselves, they were very well pleased to 
see the world, and they thought only of this, even during the 
time of their studies; so that their masters began to grow weary 
of teaching them. They found a thousand pretexts to avoid 
study. This time they must celebrate their birthday, another time 
they were invited to a ball or an assembly, and they must pass 
the whole day in dressing and fixing themselves ; while letters 
upon letters were written to their teachers, to request them not 
to come. On the other hand, the masters, who saw that these 
two little girls no longer applied themselves, cared no longer to 
give them lessons; for, in the country, teachers gave not in¬ 
struction solely for money, but for the pleasure of witnessing the 
advancement of their scholars. They therefore-came but seldom, 
and the girls were very well pleased at it. They lived thus 
until they became fifteen; and, at this time, Belote had become 
so handsome, she was the admiration of all who saw her. 

When the mother carried her daughters into company, all the 
gentlemen made their court to Belote; one praised her mouth, 
another her eyes, her hand, her figure; and while they were be¬ 
stowing all their compliments, they scarce knew that her sistei 
existed. Laidronnette was dying of mortification, at being so 
ugly; and soon took a disgust at society, and parties, where all 
the civilities and preferences were reserved for her sister. She 
hen began to wish not to go out; and one day, when they were 
nvited to a party, which was to finish with a ball, she told her 
mother that she had a headache, and wished to remain at home. 
She at first became tired to death; and then, to pass the time. 


BELOTE AND LAIDRONNETTE . 


219 


she went to a bookcase of her mother, to find a romance; and 
was very much disappointed to find that her sister had earned 
off the key. 

Her father had also a bookcase, but the works were of a serious 
character, and she disliked them very much. She was at last 
obliged to take one. It was a collection of letters ; and on 
opening the book, she found what I will relate to you:— 

“ You ask of me, how it happens that the greater part of hand¬ 
some people are extremely foolish and stupid: I believe I can 
give you the reason ; it is not because they are born with less 
mind than others, but it is because they neglect to cultivate it. 
All women possess vanity; they wish to please. An ugly 
woman knows that she cannot be loved for the sake of her face; 
this induces her to distinguish herself by her intellect. She then 
earnestly applies herself to study, and she becomes agreeable, in 
spite of her person. The beauty, on the contrary, has nothing 
to do to excite pleasure but to show herself; her vanity is satis¬ 
fied, as she never reflects; she thinks not that beauty endures 
out for a season; besides, she is so engaged with her dress, and 
running to parties to show herself, and listening to flattery, that 
she has no time to cultivate her mind, even though she should 
acknowledge its necessity. She thus becomes a foolish creature, 
entirely immersed in trifles, millenary, and parties. This lasts 
till thirty, forty, and perhaps longer, provided the smallpox, or 
some other disease, does not sooner come to destroy her beauty. 
But when the season of youth has flown, we can no longer learn 
as in earlier life. Thus, this beautiful girl (who is so no longer) 


220 


BELOTE AND LAIDRONNETTE. 


remains a fool for the rest of her days ; although nature has 
given her quite as much mind as the other, who, notwithstanding 
her ugliness, is very agreeable, and laughs at disease and old 
age, which can take nothing from her.” 

Laidronnette, after having read this letter, which seemed ex- 
pressiy written for her, resolved to profit by the truths she had 
discovered. She sent again for the masters, applied herself to 
reading, judicious reflections upon whatever she read, and in a short 
time became an excellent scholar. Whenever she was obliged 
to attend her mother into company, she always placed herself 
beside those persons whom she observed to possess either wit 
or reasoning powers ; she asked them questions, and recollected 
all the good things that she heard; she even made a practice of 
writing them down, that she might recollect them better; and at 
seventeen, she spoke and wrote so well, that all persons of merit 
desired her acquaintance, and she kept up a correspondence, by 
letters, with some of the ablest. The two sisters were married 
on the same day. 

Belote married a young prince, who was beautiful, and who 
was but twenty-two years of age. 

Laidronnette married the ijiinister of this prince, who was a 
man of forty-five; he had been struck with her intelligence, and 
esteemed her very highly; but her countenance could hardly in¬ 
spire him with love; he acknowledged, even to Laidronnette, 
that he had a sincere friendship for her ; it was what"she asked * 
she was not at all jealous of her sister, who “had married a prince 
who was so deeply in love with her that he could scarcely leave 


BELOTE AND LAIDRONNETTE. 


221 


her for a moment. Belote was very happy for three months; 
but at the end of this time, her husband began to grow used to 
her beauty, and to think that he ought not to give up every thing 
for his wife. He went a hunting, and made parties of pleasure, 
to which she was not invited, which appeared very extraordinary 
.to Belote, for she had persuaded herself that her husband would 
always love her with the same ardour as at first, and she thought 
herself a most unfortunate woman when she perceived his love 
diminished ; she complained to him, he grew vexed, they made 
up; but as her complaints were resumed every day, the prince 
got tired of listening to them. Besides, Belote having had a son,' 
she became thin, and her beauty was considerably impaired; so 
that at last her husband, who had loved nothing of her but her 
beauty, loved her no longer. The mortification she felt, com 
pleted the ruin of her charms ; and as she was utterly ignorant, 
her conversation was very tedious. 

The young people grew tired of her, because she was sad; 
persons more advanced, and possessed of good sense, also grew 
tired of her, because she was foolish ; so that she remained alone 
almost the whole of the day. What increased her despair was, 
that her sister, Laidronnette, was as happy as possible. Her 
husband consulted her upon his business; he trusted her with 
all his thoughts; he conducted himself by her advice, and de¬ 
clared every where, that his wife was the best friend he had in 
the world. 

The prince himself, who was a man of sense, enjoyed himself 
in the society of his sister-in-law; and told her that he could not 


222 BELOTE AND LAIDRONNETTE. 

stay a half an hour with Belote, without yawning, because she 
could only speak of caps and dresses, of which he knew nothing. 

His disgust at his wife became so great, that he sent her in 
the country, where she had time to get tired at her leisure, and 
where she would certainly have died of vexation, had not her 
sister, Laidronnette, had the kindness to go and see her, as 
often as she could. 

One day, while she was endeavouring to console her, Belote 
said to her : “ But, my sister, how comes this difference between 
you and myself? I cannot help observing, that you have much 
good sense, while I am but a foolish woman ; but when we were 
young, they said I had at least an equal share of understanding 
with yourself.” 

Laidronnette then related her adventure to her sister, and said 
to her: “You are very much vexed at your husband, because 
he has sent you into the country; but even this, which you 
consider as the greatest evil of your life, may be made the occa¬ 
sion of happiness, if you are but willing. You are not yet nine¬ 
teen; this would be too late for you to apply yourself, if 
you were amidst the dissipation of a city; but the solitude in 
which you live, leaves you all necessary time to cultivate your 
mind : it wants nothing, my dear sister, but to be adorned and 
strengthened by reading and reflection.” 

Belote found much difficulty, at first, in following the advice oi 
her sister, from a custom she had contracted of spending her 
time upon trifles ; but, by putting a constraint upon herself, she 
succeeded, and made a surprising progress in all her studies. In 


BELOTE AND LAIBRONNETTE. 


223 


a Jike degree, she became also rational; and as philosophy con¬ 
soled. her for her misfortunes, she regained her flesh, and became 
more beautiful than she had ever been; but she cared little for 
this, and never deigned to look into her glass. 

In the meantime, her husband had taken so great a disgust to 
her, that he caused his marriage to be dissolved. This last mis¬ 
fortune liked to have entirely overwhelmed her; Laidronnette 
came immediately to console her: “ Afflict not yourself,” said 
she to her : “ I have a way of restoring your husband to you, 
only follow my advice, and let nothing trouble you.” 

As the prince had had a son by Belote, who would be his heir, 
he was not in haste to take another wife, and only thought of 
his diversions. He enjoyed extremely his conversations with 
Laidronnette, and he told her often that he would never marry 
again, at least, till he found a wife of as much sense as herself. 
“ But if she were as ugly as me !” said she, laughing. “ In truth, 
madam,” said the prince to her, “ that would not stop me a mo¬ 
ment ; one gets accustomed to an ordinary face : your own no 
longer appears to me disagreeable, from the frequency with 
which I see you; when you speak, it matters not that you are 
plain: and, moreover, to tell you the truth, Belote has disgusted 
me with handsome women; every time I meet one, I get a no¬ 
tion that she is stupid; I dare not speak to her, for fear she will 
make me some foolish reply.” 

But the time of the Carnival was at hand; the prince thought he 
could have a great deal of amusement, if he could attend the 
ball without being known. He trusted his secret to no one ex* 


224 


BELOTE AND LAIDRONNETTE. 


cept Laidronnette, and requested her to mask herself with him; 
for as she was his sister-in-law, no one could reproach her, and 
her reputation would not be injured in the least. 

But Laidronnette asked permission of her husband, who agreed 
to it most willingly; for he had himself put this fancy in the 
head of the prince, that he might bring to a successful issue the 
design he had of reconciling him to Belote. 

He wrote to this deserted princess, in concert with his wife, 
who, at the same time, particularly described to the princess 
how the prince was to be dressed. 

In the middle of the ball, Belote seated herself between her 
husband and her sister, and began an extremely agreeable con¬ 
versation with them; at first, the prince thought he recognised 
the voice of his wife ; but she was not able to speak continu¬ 
ously for ten minutes, which destroyed the ,suspicion he had at 
the commencement. The rest of the night passed so quickly, 
as it appeared to him, that he rubbed his eyes when the day ap¬ 
peared, thinking he had been in a dream, and charmed with the 
wit of the incognita, whom he could not prevail upon to unmask; 
all that he could obtain was, that she would return at the next 
ball in the same disguise. The prince was among the first, and 
although the incognita arrived a quarter of an hour after him, he 
accused her of delay, and declared that he had been very impa¬ 
tient. He was still more charmed with the incognita the second 
time than at the first, and acknowledged to Laidronnette, that he 
was enamoured to madness of her. 

‘ I acknowledge that she has a great deal of sense,” replied 


BELOTE AND L A I D R O N N E T T E . 225 

ms confidant to him; “ but if you wish I should give you my 
opinion, I suspect that she is more ugly than myself; she 
knows that you love her, and is afraid of losing your heart 
when you come to see her face.”—“ Ah, madam!” said the 
prince, “ would that she could read my heart! The love which 
inspires me, is independent of her features. I admire her clear¬ 
ness of intellect, the extent of her knowledge, the superiority of 
her wit, and the goodness of her heart.”—“ How can you judge' 
of the goodness of her heart ?” said Laidronnette. “ I am going to 
tell you,” replied the prince : “ when I pointed out to her any beau¬ 
tiful woman, she candidly praised them, and she even made me 
observe beauties they possessed, which had escaped my sight. 
When I wished (to try her) to relate slanderous stories which 
were imputed to them, she adroitly changed the discourse, or 
happily interrupted me, to relate some good action of these very 
persons; and at. last, when I wished to continue, she shut my 
mouth, saying that she could not endure calumny. You see 
plainly, madam, a woman who is not jealous of those who are 
handsome—a woman who takes pleasure in speaking well of her 
neighbours, and will not suffer them to be slandered—must be of 
an excellent disposition, and cannot fail of having a good heart. 
What would be wanting to my happiness with such a woman, 
even though she should be as ugly as you think her ? I am, 
therefore, resolved to declare to her my name, and to offer to 
share with her my power.” 

Indeed, at the next ball, the prince informed the incognita of 
his rank, and told her that he could never hope for happiness 


226 


BELOTE AND LAIDRONNETTE. 


unless he obtained her hand. In spite of these offers, Belote 
continued obstinate in remaining masked, as she had agreed with 
her sister. The poor prince was in a dreadful uneasiness. He 
thought, like Laidronnette, that this person, so intellectual, must 
be a monster indeed, since she had so much repugnance to let 
him see her; but although she were as hideous as possible, this 
could never diminish the attachment, respect, and esteem that he 
had conceived for her understanding and virtue. 

He was ready to fall sick of vexation, when the incognita 
said to him: “ I love you, my prince, and I seek to conceal 
nothing from you; but the greater my love, the more I fear of 
losing you when you behold me. You figure to yourself that I 
have large eyes, a small mouth, beautiful teeth, a complexion of 
lilies and roses ; and if, perchance, you should discover me with 
squinting eyes, a large mouth, snub nose, and black teeth, you 
will quickly bid me to again put on my mask. Besides, even 
though I should not be so horrible, I know that you are incon¬ 
stant. You loved Belote to madness, and now you are disgusted 
with her.”—“ Ah, madam!” said the prince to her, “judge for 
yourself: I was young when I married Belote, and I confess to 
you, that 'I thought only of looking at, but never of listening to 
her; yet, when I became married, and the frequency of seeing 
her had dissipated my illusion, imagine, if you please, that my 
situation was far from agreeable; when I found myself alone 
with my wife, she spoke to me of some dress she was to try on 
in the morning, of the shoes of this one, and the diamonds of 
another. If she found at my table an intelligent person, who 


BELOTE AJND LAIDRONNETTE. 


227 


wished to speak on any rational subject, Belote would begin by 
yawning, and finish by going to sleep. I was desirous of in 
structing her; she became impatient; she was so ignorant that 
she made me tremble and blush every time she opened her 
mouth; besides, she had all the defects of weak persons : wheij 
she had got a notion in her head, it was impossible to get it out, 
though you gave the best reasons against it, for she could not 
understand them. Besides, if she had allowed me to get rid of 
my weariness elsewhere, I should have had patience, but this 
she took no account of; she wished the foolish love she had in¬ 
spired me with to last for ever, and to make me her slave. You 
see plainly, that she has forced me to dissolve our marriage.”— 
“ I acknowledge, that you have had cause for complaint,” replied 
the incognita, “but all this does not reassure me. You say that 
you love me. Are you sufficiently courageous to marry me -before 
the eyes of your subjects, without having seen me ?”—“ I am the 
happiest of men, since you ask but this,” replied the prince. 
“ Come to my palace with Laidronnette, and to-morrow, early 
in the morning, I will call my council together, to marry you in 
their presence.” The rest of the evening appeared very long to 
the prince, and having quitted the ball, and unmasked himself, he 
gave orders to all the lords of his court to appear at his palace, 
and summoned his ministers. 

He related in their presence all that had passed between him 
and the incognita, and, after having finished his address, he 
j swore never to have any other wife than her, whatsoever migh> 
be her figure. 


228 


BELOTE AND LAIDRONNETTE 


There was no person who did not believe, with the prince, that 
she whom he had married was horrible to the sight. 

What was the surprise of the bystanders when Belote, having 
taken off her mask, presented to their sight the most beautiful 
countenance imaginable! What was most singular, is, that 
neither the prince nor the others immediately recollected her, so 
much had rest and retirement improved her appearance. 

The prince, in an ecstasy, at having been deceived so agreeably 
could not speak; but Laidronnette broke the silence to congratu 
late her sister on the return of her husband’s affection. 

“ What!” cried out the king, “ is this charming and intelligent 
person Belote ? By what enchantment has she added to the 
charms of her person, those of the mind and disposition, in which 
she was so utterly deficient ? What kind fairy has worked this 
miracle in her favour ?” 

“ There is no miracle,” replied Belote : “ I had neglected to 
cultivate the gifts of nature ; my misfortunes, solitude, and the 
advice of my sister, have opened my eyes, and assisted me to 
acquire those graces which are proof against time and disease.” 
—“ And these graces have inspired me with an attachment that 
is proof against inconstancy,” said the prince, embracing her. 

In truth, they loved each other through life, with a fidelity that 
completely effaced the remembrance of their past misfortunes. 





JULIET. 


here was one time a nobleman and his lady who 
had been married for many years, without hav¬ 
ing children. This alone remained to complete 
their felicity, for they were rich, and esteemed 
by every one. At last they had a daughter, 
and all the fa ries residing in the country came to the christening, 
to make their presents. One declared that she should be as 
handsome as an angel; another, that she should dance to admi¬ 
ration ; a third, that she should never be sick; and a fourth, that 
she should be very intelligent. The mother was overjoyed at all 





229 















230 


JULIET. 


the gifts which were bestowed on her daughter. Beauty, grace, 
good health, and talent—what better could they give her child ?— 
whom she called Juliet. They seated themselves at table; but 
scarcely had dinner been half over, when news came to the 
'father of Juliet, that the queen of the fairies, who was passing 
by, wished to come in. The fairies arose to meet their queen, 
but she had a countenance so severe, she made all of them 
tremble. 

“My sisters,” said she, when she had seated heiself, “is it 
thus you employ the power you have received from Heaven 1 IN ot 
one of you has thought of bestowing upon Juliet a good heart or vir¬ 
tuous inclinations. I shall endeavour to remedy the evil you 
have done. I declare that she shall be dumb until the age of 
twenty; would that God had placed it in my power to forbid 
her absolutely the use of speech !” 

In an instant, the fairy disappeared, and left the father and 
mother of Juliet in the greatest despair, for they could conceive 
nothing more melancholy, than that their daughter should be 
dumb. In the course of time, Juliet became charming; she en¬ 
deavoured to speak at two years of age, and they could perceive, 
by her little gestures, that she understood all that was said to 
her, and that she was very desirous of replying. She had all 
kinds of teachers, and she learned with a surprising aptness ; she 
had so much smartness, that she explained herself by gestures, 
and gave an account to her mother of all she saw or heard. At 
first, this was admired ; but the father, who was a man of good 
sense, -said to his wife * “ Mv dear, you are suffering Juliet to 


JULIET 


231 


acquire a very bad habit; she is a little spy. What need is 
there of our knowing all that is done in the place. Nobody dis¬ 
trusts her, because she is a child, and they know she cannot 
speak, and yet you make her inform you of all she hears; this 
fault must be corrected ; there is nothing so base as a talebearer.” 

The mother, who idolized Juliet, and who was herself natu¬ 
rally inquisitive, reproached her husband with not loving the 
child because she was dumb; and declared, that she was un¬ 
happy enough already, with her infirmity, and that she could not 
resolve to render her still more miserable by contradicting her. 
The husband, who was not satisfied with such weak reasoning, 
took Juliet aside, and thus addressed her: “ My dear child, you 
give me much anxiety. The good fairy, who has made you 
dumb, without doubt foresaw you would be a telltale. But 
what advantage is it that you cannot speak, since you make 
yourself understood by signs ? Do you know what will happen 
to you? You will become hateful to every one; they will fly 
you as a pestilence, and with good reason, for you will produce 
more evil than this frightful disease. A telltale embroils every 
one, and causes the-most frightful evils ; as for myself, if you do 
not amend, I shall wish, from the bottom of my heart, that you 
were also blind and deaf.” 

Juliet was not malicious; it was through thoughtlessness that 
she repeated what she had heard. Thus, she promised him Dy 
signs that she would amend. She really intended to do so; but 
two or three days afterwards, she heard a lady ridiculing one of 
her friends ; she could write very well at this time, and she com- 


232 


JULIET 


mitted to paper what she had heard. She had written out this 
conversation with so much smartness, that her mother could not 
help laughing at her pleasantry, and admiring her style. Juliet 
was vain; she was so well pleased with the praises her mother 
bestowed upon her, that she wrote down all that passed in her 
presence. What her father predicted, came to pass ; she waa 
hated by every body. They hid themselves from her v , they 
spoke in an under tone whenever she came in; and they were 
afraid to go to parties where they knew she was invited. Un¬ 
fortunately for her, her father died when she was but twelve 
years old; and, no one upbraiding her for her faults, she ac¬ 
quired such a habit of story-telling, that she did it even without 
thinking; she spent the whole of the day in watching the ser¬ 
vants, who hated her like death ; if she went into a garden, she 
made believe she was asleep, to overhear the conversation of 
those who were walking by. But, as many were speaking at 
the same time, and as she had not a sufficiently-good memory to 
recollect all that was said, she made some alter what was spoken 
by others ; she wrote the beginning of a conversation, without 
hearing the end, or the end, without being acquainted with the 
beginning. There scarcely passed a week without twenty broils 
or quarrels in the place; and when they came to examine 
whence these difficulties proceeded, they universally traced them 
to the reports of Juliet. She embroiled her mother with all her 
friends, and occasioned the beating of two or three persons. 

This lasted till she became twenty. She waited for this day 
with the greatest impatience, that she might speak out every 


JULIET 


233 


thing at her ease, it came at last, and the queen of the fairies, 
presenting herself before her, said to her • “ Juliet, before I be¬ 
stow upon you the use of your speech, which certainly you will 
abuse, I shall show you all the evils you have produced by your 
mischievous habit ” 

At this moment, she placed before her a glass, and she saw a 
man followed by three children, who were asking alms with 
their father. 

“ I do not know this man,” said Juliet, who had spoken for 
the first time : “ what evil have I done him ?”—“ This man was 
a rich merchant,” replied the fairy: “ he had in his warehouse 
great quantities of goods, but he was in want of ready money. 
He came to borrow a sum from your father, to pay a bill of ex¬ 
change ; you stood listening- at the door of the cabinet, and then 
made known the situation of this merchant to many persons to 
whom he was m debt; this destroyed his credit; every body 
wished to be paid ; and the law having meddled in the business, 
the poor man and his children have been reduced to beggary for 
the last nine years.”—“ Gracious Heavens ! madam,” said Juliet 
“ I am in despair at having committed this crime : but I am rich , 
I will repair the evil I have done, and restore him the property 
he has lost through my imprudence ” 

After this, Juliet saw a beautiful woman in a chamber, whose 
windows were grated with bars of iron. She was lying upon 
some straw, and a pitcher of water and a morsel of mouldy 
bread beside her; her thick black hair fell over her shoulders 

and her face was bathed in tears.—“ Oh, mercy 1 ” said Juliet 
11 


234 


JULIET. 


“ I know this lady; her husband has taken her to France, and 
two years ago he wrote that she was dead. Is it possible that 
I could have been the cause of this frightful situation of this 
lady ?”—“ Yes, Juliet,” replied the fairy : “ but what is more 
terrible still, you are the means of the death of a man, whom 
the husband of this woman has slain. You recollect that one 
evening, while you were in a garden upon a bench, you pre¬ 
tended to be asleep, that you might hear what these two persons 
should say ; yfc>u thought, from their discourse, that they were in 
love with each other; and you told it over the whole city. This 
report came to the ears of the husband of this lady, who is a 
very jealous man, he slew the gentleman, and has carried his 
lady to France, where he gave out that she had died, that he 
might torment her as you see. Yet, this poor woman was inno¬ 
cent ; the gentleman was speaking to her of the love he had for 
one of her cousins, whom he wished to marry; but, as they 
spoke in a low tone of voice, you heard but a part of their con¬ 
versation, and this has given rise to these horrible events.”— 
“ Ah !” cried out Juliet, “ I am a wretch ; I deserve not to see 
the light of heaven.”—“ Wait to condemn yourself, when you 
have seen all your crimes,” said the fairy to her. “Look at this 
man, rotting in this prison, loaded with chains ; you have dis¬ 
closed a very innocent conversation of his, and, as you heard but 
a portion of it, you believed you had found out that he had cor¬ 
respondence with the enemies of the king; a young giddy fellow, 
a very wicked man, and a woman, as tattling as yourself, who 
loved not this poor man, repeated and exaggerated what you said 


JULIET 


235 


of him; they have caused him to be confined in this prison, 
whence he will never come out, except to beat the slanderer 
within an inch of her life , and to treat you as the vilest of 
women, if ever he happens to meet you.” 

After this, the fairy showed to Juliet a great number of ser- 
vants in the streets, famishing with hunger; husbands parted 
from their wives, children disinherited by their parents, and all 
the result of her tattling. Juliet was inconsolable, and promised 
to amend. 

“You are too old to amend,” said the fairy to her: “the 
faults you have indulged in to your twentieth year, are not to be 
corrected by a wish , I know but one remedy for it; it is to be 
blind, deaf, and dumb for ten years, and to pass all this time in 
reflecting upon the evils you. have caused.” 

Juliet had not the courage to agree to a remedy which ap¬ 
peared to her so terrible. She promised, notwithstanding, to 
spare no trouble to become less talkative; but the fairy turned 
her back upon her, without listening to her, for she knew veiy 
well that if she had a real desire of correcting herself,, she would 
have employed the means. The world is filled with this kind of 
people—people who say: “ I am sorry that I am gluttonous, 
choleric, or lying; I wish with all my heart I could correct 
myself.” 

They undoubtedly deceive themselves, for if they should be 
told: “ To correct your gluttony, you must never eat, except at 
your meals, and rise from the table with an appetite; to cure 
you of your choler, you must impose upon yourself, a severe 


236 


JULIET. 


penance, every time you are hurried away by passion.” If one 
should tell them to observe these means strictly, their only reply 
ls “ This is too difficult.” That is to say, they wish that 
God should work a miracle, to correct them all of a sudden, 
without their being put to the slightest trouble. Just so thought 
Juliet; but, with all her good intentions, she never amended. 
As she was detested by every body who knew her, in spite of 
her wit, her beauty, and her talents, she resolved to remove to 
another place She sold all her property, and departed, in com 
pany with her foolish mother They came to a large city, 
where every one was at first charmed with Juliet. Many great 
lords asked her in marriage ; and she made choice of one, whom 
she loved passionately. She lived a year very happily with him. 
As the city was very large, no one knew that she was a tale¬ 
bearer, because she saw a great many people who were unac¬ 
quainted with each other. One day, after supper, her husband, 
speaking of many persons, happened to say, that such a gentle¬ 
man was not a very honourable man, since he had seen him 
commit many bad actions. Two days after, Juliet being at a 
large masquerade, a man, concealed in a domino, asked her to 
dance, and, afterwards, seated himself near her. As she spoke 
well, he was very much amused with her conversation; and the 
more, because she was acquainted with all the scandalous stories 
of the place, and told them with a great deal of spirit. The wife 
of the gentleman of whom her husband had spoken, got up to 
dance ; and Juliet said to the mask in the domino “ This woman 
is very agreeable : it is a great pity she is married to a dishon- 


JULIET 


237 


ourable man.”—“Do you know her husband, of whom you 
speak so ill?” asked the mask. “No,” replied Juliet: “but my 
husband, who knows him very well, has told me a great many 
bad stories of him.” And immediately after, Juliet related 
these stories, which she exaggerated according to her usual 
practice, that she might have a better opportunity of showing 
her wit. The mask, listened to her in silence, and she was very 
much pleased at the attention he paid, because she attributedj 
it to admiration. When she had finished, he left; and a quarter 
of an hour after, news was brought Juliet, that her husband was 
dying of a Wound he had received of a man, whose reputation 
he had attacked. Juliet ran sobbing to the place where her 
husband was lying; he had not a quarter of an hour to live. 

“Begone, you wicked creature!” said the dying man to her: 
“it is your tongue, and your stories, that have deprived me of 
life:” and in a short time he expired. Juliet, who loved him to 
madness, seeing him dead, threw herself all furious upon his 
sword, which passed through her body. The mother, who 
witnessed this terrible scene, was so struck with horror, that 
she fell sick, and dying, cursed her curiosity, and that foolish 
weakness for her daughter, which had ended in her ruin. 





PRINCE NOSEY. 


here was one time a king, who was passion 
ately in love with a princess, but she could not 
marry, because she was enchanted. He went 
to consult a fairy, to know how he should act 
to become beloved by the princess; the fairy 
told him : “You know that the princess has a large cat, which 
she dearly loves ; she will marry him who is sufficiently cunning 
to tread upon the tail of her cat.” The prince said to himself: 
“This will not be very difficult.” He then quitted the fairy, de¬ 
termined to mash in pieces the tail of the animal rather than not 

238 
















PRINCE NOSEY 


239 


tread upon it. He ran to the palace of his mistress , Minon (for 
so the cat was called) appeared before him, taking great state 
upon him as usual; the king raised up his foot, but when he be¬ 
lieved he had got it upon his tail, Minon turned about so quickly, 
that he found nothing under his foot. He was for eight whole 
days trying to tread upon this unlucky tail, but it seemed to be 
made of quicksilver ; it always slipped away. At last, the king 
had the luck to surprise Minon asleep, and put his foot upon his 
tail with all his might. Minon awoke with a terrible mewing, 
and then, all of a sudden, he assumed the figure of a large man, 
and looking at the king, with eyes full of rage, he said to him: 
“ You shall marry the princess, since you have destroyed the 
enchantment which prevented it; but I shall have my revenge. 
You shall have a son, who shall be always unhappy, until he 
shall find out that he Las too long a nose; and if you speak of 
this threat, on that instant you die.” Although the king was a 
great deal alarmed at seeing this large man, who was an enchanter, 
he could not help laughing at this menace. “ If my son has too 
long a nose,” said he to himself, “ at least he will be neither blind 
nor maimed ; he will always be able to see and to smell.” The 
enchanter having disappeared, the king went to find the princess, 
who consented to marry him; but he lived a very short time 
with her, and died at the end of eight months. A month after, 
the queen brought into the world, a little prince, who was called 
Nosey. He had large blue eyes, the most beautiful possible ; a 
sweet little mouth, but his nose was so large that it covered the 
half of his face; the queen was inconsolable when she saw this 


240 


PRINCE NOSEY, 


great nose; but the ladies who were m attendance assured her, 
that the nose was not so large as it appeared to her; that it was 
a Roman nose, and that she might see in history, that all great 
men had large noses. The queen, who loved her son to madness, 
was charmed at this language; and by constantly looking at 
Nosey, his nose no longer appeared so great. The prince was 
brought up with care, and as soon as he was able to talk, they 
related in his presence all kinds of malicious stories, about per¬ 
sons with short noses; they would permit about him only those 
whose noses, in some degree, resembled his own; and the cour¬ 
tiers, to make their court to the queen and her son, pulled many 
times a day the noses of their children, to render them longer; 
but they had their pains for their trouble; they appeared snub¬ 
nosed beside the prince. When he came to years of sufficient 
understanding, they taught him history ; and whenever they 
spoke of any great prince, or any beautiful princess, they always 
asserted they had large noses ; his entire apartment was filled 
with portraits of persons with big noses; and Nosey became so 
accustomed to look upon length of nose as a beauty, that he 
would not have consented for a kingdom to part with a jot of his 
own. When he became twenty years of age, and thought of 
getting married, the pictures of many princesses were shown him * 
he was delighted with that of Mignone. She was the daughter of 
a great king, and the future heiress of many kingdoms. But 
Nosey scarcely thought of this, so entirely taken up was he with 
her beauty. This princess, whom he found so charming, had, 
above all, a little turn-up nose, which produced the prettiest ef 


PRINCE NOSEY. 


241 


tect imaginable m her; but which threw the courtiers in the 
greatest embarrassment. Sometimes a laugh, at the expense of 
the princess, would escape them by mistake. But the king 
would hear no raillery on this subject; he even drove away 
from the court two courtiers who had dared to sneer at the nose 
of Mignone. The others, become prudent by this example, cor¬ 
rected themselves, and failed not to declare to the prince that, in 
truth, a man could not be handsome without a large nose; but 
that the beauty of women was different; and a certain learned 
man told him that he had read in an old Greek manuscript, that 
the beautiful Cleopatra had the end of her nose slightly turned 
up The prince made a.splendid present to this learned man, 
and immediately sent off ambassadors to ask «the princess in 
marriage ; his request was complied with, and he advanced more 
than three leagues to meet her, so great was his desire of seeing 
her; but when he approached to kiss her hand, he saw the en¬ 
chanter descend, who snatched the princess from his sight, and 
left him in despair. Nosey resolved never to return to his king¬ 
dom before he had found Mignone ; he would permit none of 
his courtiers to follow him ; and being mounted on a good horse, 
he threw the bridle on his neck, and let him take his own way 
The horse entered upon a vast plain, over which he went the 
whole day, without meeting with a single house; the prince and 
his horse were dying of hunger; at last, about evening, he saw 
a cavern where there was a light; he entered it, and perceived 
a little aged woman, who seemed to be over a hundred years 
old. She attempted to put on her spectacles to look at the 
11 * 


242 


PRINCE NOSE Y. 


prince, but it was a long time before she could keep them on, in 
consequence of the shortness of her nose. 

The prince and the fairy (for the old woman was one) each 
burst out into a roar of laughter at beholding the other, and cried 
out, both at the same time : “Ah ! what an odd nose !”■—“ Not 
so droll as your own,” said Nosey to the fairy : “ but, madam, let 
our noses go for what they are worth * and be kind enough to 
give me some food, for I am dying of hunger, as is also my 
horse.”—“With, all my heart,” said the fairy : “although your 
nose is very ridiculous, you are none the less the son of one of 
my best friends. I loved the king, your father, as if he were a 
brother; he had a very well-made nose, this prince.”—“ And 
what does mine want ?” said Nosey. “ Oh ! it wants nothing,” 
said the fairy ; “ on the contrary, it is a great deal too large ; but it 
matters not: one maybe a very honest man, and have too long a 
nose. I was telling you I was the friend of your father ; he 
came to see me often in his time. I was very handsome then, 
so he told me ; I must tell you a conversation which we had to¬ 
gether, the last time he saw me.”—“ Stop, madam,” said Nosey : 
“ I will hear you with the greatest pleasure, after I have taken 
my supper; think, if you please, I have not eaten a morsel to¬ 
day.”—“ The poor fellow,” said the fairy, “ is right; I did not 
think of it. I will go and get ready your supper ; and, while you 
are eating, I will tell you the story in two words, for I like not 
your long stories—too long a tongue is worse than too long a 
nose—and I recollect, when I was young, they admired me 
much because I was not a great talker; they said to the queen. 


PRINCE NOSEY. 


243 


my mother, for such as I am, I am the daughter ot a great king. 

My father”- “ Your father ate when he was hungry,” said 

the prince, interrupting her. “Yes, certainly,” said the fairy; 
“ and you shall also have your supper in a moment. I was only 

going to say that my father”-“ And I—I will listen to 

nothing before I have eaten,” said the prince, who began to get 
angry ; he checked himself quickly, for he needed the help of 
the fairy; and observed to her : “ I acknowledge the pleasure I 
take, in hearing you, could make me forget my hunger; but my 
horse, who has not that pleasure, is very much in want of some¬ 
thing to eat.” The fairy bristled up at the compliment: “You 
shall be kept waiting no longer,” said she, calling to her servants ; 
“ you are very much of a gentleman, and, notwithstanding the 
enormous size of your nose, you are vastly agreeable.”—“ Plague 
upon this old woman with my nose !” said the prince to himself; 
* one would think that my mother had stolen from her what is 
wanting of her own. If I were not in great want for food,-1 
would leave this old babbler, who believes she talks very little. 
She must be very foolish not to know her defects; see what it 
is to be born a princess : her flatterers have spoiled her, and per¬ 
suaded her that she is not talkative. 

While he was thinking thus, the servants set the table, and 
the prince wondered at the fairy, who kept asking them a thou¬ 
sand questions, only for the pleasure of babbling. He wondered 
particularly at a chambermaid, who, in accordance with all he 
saw, flattered her mistress without stint. “ Indeed,” thought he, 
while he was eating, “ I am glad I have come here ; this instance 



244 


PRINCE NOSEY. 


shows me how wisely 1 have acted in not listening to flatterers 
This kind of people praise us with boldness; they conceal from 
us our defects, and even change them into excellences ; as for 
me, 1 will never be their dupe : I know my deficiencies, God be 
thanked !” Poor Nosey thought this honestly, and yet never 
perceived that those who praised his nose, were making sport of 
him, as the waitingmaid of the fairy made sport of her; for the 
prince observed, that every now and then she turned aside to 
give vent to her laughter. As for him, he said not a word, eating 
with all his might. “ My dear prince,” said the fairy, when he 
began to grow satisfied, “ turn yourself one side, I beg you; 
your nose casts a shadow which prevents my seeing what is on 
my plate. Ah ! that is right; let us speak of your father; J 
was at court when he was quite a small lad; but it is now forty 
years since I have retired to this solitude. Tell me a little how 
they come on there at present ? Do the women love to run 
about as much as ever ? In my time, one might see them the 
same day at the assembly, the theatre, on the public walks, and 
at balls. How long your nose is ! I cannot get used to seeing 
it.”—“Indeed,” replied Nosey, “please stop speaking of my 
nose ; it is as it is. Of what consequence is it to you ? I am 
contented with it—I do not wish it a bit shorter; every one to 
their liking.”—“ Oh! I see it provokes you, my dear Nosey,’' 
said the fairy : “ but it was not my intention; on the contrary, I 
am your friend : but, in spite of all this, I cannot prevent my¬ 
self being shocked at your nose. I will do my best not to speak 
of it any more ; I will try even to think you are snub-nosed, 


PRINCE NOSEY. 


245 


although, to say the truth, there is stuff enough in it to make 
three moderate-sized ones.” Nosey, who had finished his meal, 
grew so impatient at this interminable harangue of the fairy, 
on the subject of his nose, that he mounted his horse, and 
rode off. 

He continued his travels, and wherever he went, he thought the 
people were mad, for every body spoke of his nose. But m 
spite of all this, he had been so used to hear his nose called 
handsome, that he could never acknowledge to himself, that it 
was too long. The old fairy, who wished to do him a favour 
against his will, bethought herself of shutting up Mignone in a 
palace of crystal, and placing it upon the route of the prince. 
Nosey, transported with joy, endeavoured to break it open, but 
he could not succeed. 

In his despair, he wished to approach, to speak, at least, to the 
princess, who, on her side, extended her hand to the glass; he 
wished to kiss it; but on whatever side he turned, he could not 
carry his mouth to it, for his nose was in the way. He per¬ 
ceived, for the first time, its extraordinary size ; and, taking his 
hand to turn it aside, “ I must confess,” said he, “ my nose is too 
long.” At that moment, the palace of crystal fell into pieces, 
and the old woman, who stood holding Mignone by the hand, 
said to the prince . “ Acknowledge that you are under great ob¬ 
ligations to me. I had in vain spoken of your nose; you never 
would have found out the defect, had it not become an obstacle 
to your wishes; it is thus that self-love conceals from us the 
defects of our minds and bodies. Reason in vain endeavours to 


246 


PRINCE NOSEY. 


unveil them to us, but we are never convinced, until self-love 
finds them opposed to its interest.” Nosey, whose nose had 
become of an ordinary size, profited by this lesson. He mar 
ried Mignone, and lived very happily with her for a great num¬ 
ber of years 




FLORISE 



peasant-woman became acquainted with a 
fairy in her neighbourhood. She entreated 
L her to come and see her little girl, who had 
just been christened. 

The fairy immediately took the infant m her 
arms, and said to the mother : “ Make your choice—she shall be, 
if you wish, beautiful as the day, of a wit more enchanting than 
her beauty, and the queen of a great kingdom, but unfortunate * 
or, she shall be very ordinary, and a peasant-woman like your¬ 
self, but contented m her condition.” The peasant-woman 


347 












248 


F L O R I S E . 


chose immediately for her child, beauty and wit, with a crown, 
at the hazard of whatever misfortune might befall her. See 
growing up this little girl, whose beauty already began to shame 
the loveliness of the most beautiful, her wit was pliant, polished, 
and insinuating; she learned all they wished to teach her, and 
her knowledge soon exceeded that of her teachers. On festivals, 
she danced on the green with more grace than any of her com¬ 
panions ; her voice was more touching than any musical instru¬ 
ment, and she composed, herself, the ballads she sung. At first, 
she knew not that she was handsome; but, in playing with her 
young friends upon the brink of a clear fountain, she saw her¬ 
self, and remarking that she was different from the others, she 
admired herself for the first time. All the country, that ran in 
crowds to see her, made her still better acquainted with her 
charms. Her mother, who had depended on the predictions of 
the fairy, already regarded her as a queen, and spoiled her by 
her indulgence. The young girl would neither spin, sew, nor tend 
the sheep. She would amuse herself by gathering flowers, in 
dressing her hair, in singing and dancing in the shade of the 
woods. The kmg of this country was very powerful, and he 
had but one son, named Rosimond, whom he desired should be 
married. But he never could bring himself to listen to the pro¬ 
posal of any princess from the neighbouring states, because a 
fairy had assured him, that he should find a peasant-girl, far 
more beautiful, and perfect, than any princess whatever. He re 
solved to assemble all the young village-girls of his kingdom, 
below the age of eighteen, and select her who appeared most 


FLORISE. 


249 


worthy of his choice. He excluded, at first, an immense num¬ 
ber of girls, who possessed but a moderate share of beauty, and 
placed aside thirty, who infinitely surpassed the rest. Florise 
(the name of the young girl) had not the mortification of being 
confounded with the multitude. These thirty girls were ar 
ranged in the centre of a large hall, in a species of amphitheatre, 
where the king and his son could behold them at once. Florise 
instantly appeared, in<the midst of all others, as a beautiful ane¬ 
mone among marigolds, or an orange-tree, in blossom, amidst a 
wild thicket. The king cried out that she .deserved the crown 
Rosimond believed himself blessed, in possessing Florise; they 
stripped off her country-dress, and gave her one embroidered with 
gold. In an instant, she saw herself covered with diamonds and 
pearls ; a great number of ladies were employed in waiting upon . 
her; every one thought of guessing what would please her, that 
they might give it to her before she should be troubled to ask for 
it. She was lodged in a magnificent apartment of the palace, 
which had, in place of tapestry, large pieces of looking-glass, of 
the height of the room, surrounding the walls, that she might 
have the pleasure of seeing her beauty multiplied on all sides, 
and that the prince might admire her, in whatever direction he 
turned his eyes. Rosimond had given up the chase, play, and 
all his manly exercises, to be without interruption with her ; and 
as the king, his father, had died a short time after his marriage, 
it was the prudent Florise, now become queen, whose advice de- 
I cided the councils of the state. The queen, mother of the new 
ij king, named Gronipote, was jealous of her daughter-in-law. This 


250 


F L O R i & £ . 


woman was artful, malignant, and cruel. Old age had added 
additional deformity to her natural ugliness, and she looked like 
a fury The beauty of Florise made her appear still more hide¬ 
ous, and irritated her every moment She could not endure the 
disagreeable contrast; she feared also her talents, and she sur¬ 
rendered herself up to all the fury of envy 

“You have no spirit,” said she frequently to her son, “ to have 
consented to marry this little country-girl; and you have even 
the baseness to make her your idol. She is proud, as if she 
were born in the place where she now is. When the king, your 
father, wished to marry, he preferred me to every other, because 
1 was the daughter of a king, equal to himself So you ought 
to act; send back this little shepherdess to her own village, and 
„ turn your thoughts upon some young princess, suitable to your 
rank.” 

Rosimond stood out against his mother; but Gronipote one 
day stole a letter which Florise had written to the king, and gave 
it to a young man about court, whom she compelled to carry this 
note to the king, as if Florise had testified for him that love 
which she ought to have expressed for the king alone. Rosimond, 
blinded by jealousy, and by the malicious advice which his 
mother gave him, caused Florise to be shut up for life m a high 
tower, built upon the point of a rock, which jutted into the sea. 
There she wept night and day, not knowing through what injus¬ 
tice the king (whom she had so dearly loved) treated her so un¬ 
worthily. He had permitted her only to see one old woman, 
entirely in the interest of Gronipote, who insulted her every 


FLO RISE 


251 


moment during her imprisonment. Then Florise thought, with 
regret, of her village, her cottage, and her rustic amusements. One 
day, while she was overwhelmed with grief, and lamenting the 
weakness of her mother, who had chosen, in preference, that she 
should be handsome, and an unfortunate queen, rather than acoun- 
try-girl, ugly, but contented in her station. The old woman, who 
had treated her so badly, announced to her that the king had sent an 
executioner to behead her, and that she had but a short time to 
prepare for death. Florise replied that she was ready. Indeed, 
the executioner, sent by the orders of the king, through the influ¬ 
ence of Gronipote, had already raised his cutlass to sever her 
head, when there appeared a woman, who said that she had 
come to speak two words in secret to Florise before her death. 
The old woman permitted her to speak with her, because she 
appeared to her to be one of the ladies from the palace. But it 
was in reality the fairy, who had predicted the misfortunes of 
Florise at her birth, and who had assumed the figure of a lady 
from the queen-mother. She spoke to Florise aside, retiring a 
little out of sight. 

44 Are you willing,” said she to her, “ to renounce the beauty 
which has been so deadly to you ? Are you willing to lose the 
title of queen, resume your former dress, and return to your vil¬ 
lage Florise delightedly accepted her offer. The fairy ap¬ 
plied to her face an enchanted mask : immediately the features of 
her face became coarse, and lost their beautiful proportions; she 
became as ugly as she had been before beautiful and pleasing. In 
this state, she could no longer be recognised, and she passed, 




252 


FLORISE. 


without difficulty, through the midst of those who had assembled 
to witness her execution; she followed the fairy, and returned 
with her to her own country. They in vain searched for Florise ; 
they could not find her in any part of the tower. The news was 
carried to the king and Gronipote, who caused another search to 
be made through the kingdom; but all was ineffectual: the 
fairy had returned her to her mother, who would not have known 
her, after so great a transformation, if she had not been informed 
of it. Florise was contented to live ugly, poor, and unknown in 
her village, where she tended her sheep. She heard every day 
her adventures related, and her misfortunes deplored; ballads 
were made, which caused every one to weep; she took pleasure 
m singing them among her companions, and she wept like the 
rest. But she found herself happy, while tending her flock, and 
would never disclose to any body the secret of her being Florise 



> 



ALFAROUT AND CLARIPHILE. 


was one time a king, named Alfarout, who 
dreaded by his neighbours, and beloved by 
subjects. He was wise, good, just, brave, 
active. ^ He was deficient in nothing. A 
t came to visit him, and told him that great 
misfortunes would happen to him, if he did not preserve the ring 
which she placed upon his finger. When he turned the jewel 
of the ring towards his hand, he should become invisible; and * 
when he turned it in the contrary direction, he should be visible 
as before. This ring was very convenient to him. When he 



253 

















254 


ALFAROUT AND CLARIPHILE. 


distrusted any one of his subjects, he went to the closet of this 
man with his jewel turned inwards; he heard and saw all his 
family secrets, without being himself perceived. If he feared the 
intention of any neighbouring king, he entered into the most 
secret councils, where he learned every thing, avoiding, at the 
same time, any exposure of himself. Thus he prevented, with¬ 
out difficulty, all that they wished to do against him; he de¬ 
tected several conspiracies against his life, and foiled his enemies, 
who wished to overthrow him. For all this, he was not satisfied 
with his ring alone; but he asked of the fairy, the means of 
removing himself, in a moment, from one country to another, 
chat he might make a more ready and convenient use of it. 

The fairy replied with a sigh: “You ask too much ; I fear 
lest this last present may become hurtful to you.” 

He would listen to nothing, and, consequently, urged her to 
this favour. “ Well, well,” said she, “ in spite of myself, you 
must have what will cause you a little repentance.” 

Then she rubbed his shoulders with an odorous liquid ; imme 
diately, he perceived two little wings, which sprang from his 
back; they did not appear at all from under his clothes; but 
when he determined to fly, he had but to touch them with his 
hand, they became so long, that he was in a condition to infi¬ 
nitely surpass the rapid flight of an eagle. As soon as he wished 
to discontinue his flight, he had but to retouch his wings, imme¬ 
diately they folded themselves up in as small a compass as before. 

By these means, the king went all about in little time ; he 
knew every thing, and no one could conceive how he acquired 


ALFAROUT AND CLARIPHILE. 


255 


his knowledge ; for he shut himself up, and appeared to remain 
almost the whole of the day in his closet, which nobody dared 
to enter; as soon as he was there, he rendered himself invisible 
by his ring, extended his wings by a touch, and ran through im¬ 
mense tracts of country. 

With these aids, he engaged in vast wars, where he won as 
many battles as he desired. But as he witnessed continually the 
secret transactions of men, he found them so wicked and treach¬ 
erous, that he durst no longer confide in them. The more pow¬ 
erful he became, the less was he beloved; and he perceived that 
those upon whom he had conferred the greatest benefits, were far 
from being the most ardent in their affection towards him. 

To console himself, he resolved to travel through the world, 
to seek out a perfect woman for his wife, by whom he should be 
beloved, and with whom he should be happy. He sought for a 
long time, and as he saw every thing without being seen, he be¬ 
came acquainted with the most hidden secrets. He attended 
every court; he found every where dissembling women, who 
wished to be beloved, but who loved themselves too much to 
care a great deal for their husbands. He entered into every 
private house one had too light and inconstant a mind ; another 
was artful; another haughty ; another odd; and almost all were 
false, vain, and admirers of their own beauty. He went down 
mto the lowest ranks of society, and he found at last the daugh¬ 
ter of a poor labourer, beautiful as the day, but simple and ingen¬ 
uous with all her beauty, which she counted as nothing, and 
which was, indeed, her smallest recommendation, for she had' an 


256 


4LFAR0UT AND CLAR1PHILE 


understanding, and a heart far exceeding all the graces of her 
person. All the young men of her neighbourhood were earnest 
to see her, and each young man felt satisfied that he would se¬ 
cure the happiness of his life, could he but marry her. 

The king could not see her, without becoming deeply in love 
with her; he asked her in marriage of her father, who was 
transported at the thought of his daughter’s becoming a great 
queen. 

Clariphile (for this was her name) passed from the hut of her 
father to a splendid palace, where a numerous court received 
her. She was not dazzled in the least. She preserved her sim¬ 
plicity, her modesty, and her purity, and never forgot her humble 
origin, although she was loaded with honours. 

The king redoubled his affection for her, and believed at last 
that he had attained to happiness; but little was wanting, if he 
was not so already, so great a confidence did he begin to place 
in the good disposition of the queen. He made himself invisible 
every day to watch her, and, if possible, to surprise her; but he 
discovered nothing but what was worthy of admiration, he had 
but a slight portion of his former jealousy and distrust remaining; 
so little as to give him scarcely the slightest uneasiness in his 
affection for Clariphile. 

The fairy, who had predicted the most wretched consequences 
from the last gift, so often warned him, that she became trouble¬ 
some to him ; the king commanded that she should no longer be 
permitted to enter the palace, and told the queen that he forbade 
her receiving her. 


ALFAROUT AND CLAR1PHILE. 


257 


The queen promised with a great deal of reluctance to obey 
him, for she loved the good fairy very much. One day, the fairy 
wishing to inform the queen of some future event, came in under 
the figure of an officer and declared to the queen who she was. 
Immediately, the queen embraced her tenderly. 

The king, who was then invisible, perceived it, and was trans¬ 
ported by his jealousy to the utmost degree of fury ; he drew his 
sword and stabbed the queen, who fell dying into his arms 

At this moment, the fairy resumed her true figure; the king 
iecognised her, and discovered the innocence of the queen. He 
immediately attempted to kill himself; the fairy arrested the 
blow, and endeavoured to console him. The queen, with her ex 
piring voice, said to him “ Though [ perish by your hand, ipv 
heart is entirely yours,” 

Alfarout deplored the mistake of having wished, contrary to 
the advice of the fairy, for a gift which had proved so fatal. He 
restored her his ring, and begged her to take away his wings 
The rest of his life was spent in bitterness and self-reproach. 

His only consolation, was to weep at the tomb of Clariphile 
12 










PERONELLA. 

fCE upon a time, there was a queen, so old and 
ugly, so bent down under the weight of years 
and infirmities, that she grew weary of life* 
unless her youth might be renewed to her. A 
fairy, who had been present at her birth, now 
paid the queen a visit, and told her, that if she could find a young 
girl willing to exchange situations with her majesty, to give her 
bloom and youth, for the queen’s old age and sceptre, then the 
fa'ry, by one wave of her wand would fulfil their desires. The 
queen was delighted ; for she would much rather be poor, ycung, . 

258 
















PERONELLA. 


259 


and healthy, than a rich queen, old, and incapable of enjoying 
life ; she therefore ordered the strictest search to be made through¬ 
out her dominions, for a young lass who should be willing to 
give her youth in exchange for age, infirmities, and riches. It 
was not long before several covetous creatures made their ap¬ 
pearance to accept the proffered conditions : but when they saw 
how the old queen coughed, and spit, and rattled in her throat; 
how she lived upon spoon-meat; how dirty she w r as ; that she 
was wrinkled, and her person smelled disagreeably; what pain 
she suffered, and how many times she said over the same thing; 
they said they preferred their own condition, poor and miserable 
as it was, to riches and the hundred years of her majesty. 

Afterward, there came some persons of a still more ambitious 
temper: to these the queen promised the most profitable places 
and the highest honours. At first, they were extremely willing; 
but when they had stayed a short time with her majesty, they 
shook their heads as they left the room, saying: “ Of what use 
would all the queen possesses be to us, since, being so very 
hideous and disgusting, we could not venture to show ourselves 
to any one ?” At length, a young lass from a country-village 
presented herself. 

She was extremely beautiful, and declared herself willing to 
accept of the crown in exchange for her youth . her name was 
Peronella. At first, the queen was very angry ; but what end 
could it answer to be angry, since it was her determination to 
grow young again ? She proposed to Peronella to divide the 
kingdom with her “You shall have one half, and I the other,” 


260 


PERONELLA 


said she : “ surely this is enough for you, who are but a poor 
country-girl.”—“ No,” replied Peronella, “ this will by no means 
satisfy me, I will have the whole; or let me be still a country 
girl, with my blooming complexion and my briskness, and do 
you keep your wrinkles and your hundred years, with death 
himself treading upon your heels.”—“ But,” said the queen, 
“ what shall I do if I give away my whole kingdom?”—“ Do ?” 
said Peronella : “ Your majesty will laugh, dance, and sing, as I 
do :” and so saying, she laughed, danced, and sung before her. 
The queen, who could do nothing like this, asked Peronella how 
she would amuse herself if she were in her place, a stranger as 
she was to the infirmities of age. “I really cannot be quite 
sure what I would do,” answered Peronella : “ but I have a 
great mind to try the experiment, since every one says it is so 
fine a thing to be a queen.” 

While the queen and Peronella were thus making their agree¬ 
ment, the fairy herself entered the room, and said to the country- 
lass : “ Are you willing to make the trial, how you should like 
to be a queen, extremely rich, and a hundred years old ?”■—“ I 
have no objection,” said Peronella.—In a single instant, her skin 
is all over wrinkles ; her hair turns gray ; she becomes peevish 
and ill-natured ; her head shakes: her teeth drop out; she is 
already a hundred years old. The fairy next opened a little box, 
and a numerous crowd of officers and courtiers, all richly dressed, 
came out of it, who immediately rose to their full stature, and 
alljpaid ^a thousand compliments to the new queen. A sumptu¬ 
ous repast is set before her * but she has not the least appetite 


PERONELLA 


261 


she cannot cnew ; she knows not what to say, or how to behave, 
and is quite ashamed at the figure she makes ; and she coughs 
till she feels almost ready to expire. She then sees herself in 
the looking-glass, and perceives she is as ugly and deformed as an 
old grandam ape. In the meanwhile, the real queen stood in a 
corner, smiling all the time to see how fresh and comely she 
was grown ; what beautiful hair she had, and how her teeth were 
become white and firm. Her complexion was fair and rosy, and 
she could skip about as nimbly as a deer; but then she was 
dressed in a short filthy rag of a petticoat, and her cap and apron 
seemed as if she had sifted cinders through them. She scarcely 
dared to move in such clothes as these, to which she had never 
been accustomed; and the guards, who never suffered such dirty, 
ragged-looking people within the palace gates, pushed her about 
with the greatest rudeness. Peronella, who all the time was 
looking on, now said to her * “ I see it is quite dreadful to you 
not to be a queen, and it is still more so to me to be one : pray, 
take your crown again, and give me my ragged petticoat.” The 
change was immediately made : the queen grew old again, and 
Peronella as young and blooming as she had been before. 
Scarce was the change complete, than each began to repent of 
what she had done, and would have tried a little longer, but it 
was now too late. The fairy condemned them for ever to 
remain in their own conditions. The queen cried all day long, 
if her finger did but ache : “ Alas ! if I were now but Peronella, 
I should, it is true, sleep in a poor cottage and live on potatoes ; 
but I should dance with the shepherds under a shady elm, to the 


262 


PERONELLA . 


soft sounds of the flute. Of what service is a bed of down to 
me, since it procures me neither sleep nor ease; or so many 
attendants, since they cannot change my unhappy condition?” 
Thus the queen’s fretfulness increased the pain she suffered : 
nor could the twelve physicians, who constantly attended her, be 
of the least service. In short, she died about two months after. 

Peronella was dancing with her companions, on the fresh 
grass by the side of a transparent stream, when the first news of 
the queen’s death reached her: so she said to her companions: 
“ How fortunate I was in preferring my own humble lot to that 
of a kingdom.” Soon after, the fairy came again to visit Pero¬ 
nella, and gave her the choice of three husbands ; the first was 
old, peevish, disagreeable, jealous, and cruel; but, at the same 
time, rich, powerful, and a man of high distinction, w T ho would 
never suffer her, by day or night, to be for a single moment out 
of his sight. The second was handsome, mild, and amiable; he 
was descended from a noble family, but was extremely poor, and 
unlucky in all his undertakings. The third, like herself, was of 
poor extraction, and a shepherd ; but neither handsome nor ugly 
he would be neither over-fond nor neglectful; neither rich nor 
very poor. Peronella knew not which to choose; for she was 
passionately fond of fine clothes, of a coach, and of great dis¬ 
tinction. But the fairy, seeing her hesitate, said: “ What a 
silly girl you are ! if you would be happy, you must choose the 
shepherd. Of the second you would be too fond; the first 
would be too fond of you ; either would make you miserable 
be content, if the third never treat you unkindly. It is a thou- 


peronella 


263 


sand times better to dance on the green grass, or on the fern, 
than in a palace; and to be poor Peronella in a village, than a 
fine lady who is for ever sick and discontented at court. If you 
will determine to think nothing of grandeur and riches, you may 
lead a long and happy life with your shepherd, in a state of the 
most perfect content.” Peronella took the advice of the fairy, 
and became a proof to all of the happiness that awaits a simple 
and virtuous life 




THE BLUE BIRD. 

here was one time a king, who was very rich; 
his wife, whom he dearly loved, died, and left 
him inconsolable. He shut himself up for 
eight whole days in a little room, where he 
continually beat his head against the w^alls , 
they placed cushions among the tapestry, and about the wain- 
cot that he might not hurt himself. All his subjects resolved to 
go and see him, and say what they could to assuage his grief, 
but their speeches made no impression on his mind. At last, 
ther appeared before him, a woman, entirely clad in black crape, 

2(54 















THE BLUE BIRD, 


265 


a deep mourning veil, and long habit of sable, weeping and 
sobbing so loudly and bitterly, that even the king stood amazed. 
He received her more kindly than the rest, and they talked 
together so much, that they had no more to say upon the subject 
of their afflictions. When the cunning widow (for she grieved, 
she said, for the best of husbands) perceived that her subject 
was almost exhausted, she slightly raised her veil; the king, 
deeply grieved as he was, could not help noticing this poor 
afflicted widow, who turned upon him and then withdrew, very 
much to the purpose, two large blue eyes, fringed with long 
s black eyelashes: her complexion was very florid; the king 
observed her with great attention—by degrees he began to 
speak less of his wife, then not at all of her: in short, every 
body was astonished when the king married the widow. 

The king had only one daughter by his first marriage, who 
passed for the eighth wonder of the world ; she was called Flo - 
rine. She was but fifteen when the king married the second time. 

The new queen sent for her daughter, who had been brought up 
with her godmother, the fairy Soussio. But she was neither 
sweet-tempered nor handsome ; she was called Truitonne, for her 
face was speckled with red spots like a trout. # Her black hair 
was so thick and coarse, no one could touch it, and her saffron 
skin continually distilled a greasy liquid. The queen did not fail 
to love her to madness, and as Florine had, in every respect, the 
advantage of her, the queen sought out all possible ways of 

* Truite means, in French, a trout. 

12* 


266 


THE BLUE BIRD 


setting her at variance with the king. The king remarked one 
day to the queen, that Florine and Truitonne were old enough to 
be married. “ I insist upon my daughter being first establish* 
ed,” replied the queen: the king agreed to it. 

Some time afterwards, it was rumoured that King Charmant 
was about coming to the court. Never was there a prince more 
celebrated for his gallantry and magnificence. When the queen 
heard the news, she set to work all the embroiderers, dress-makers, 
and milliners, to furnish ornaments for Truitonne; she entreated 
the king to allow nothing new to Florine, but gaining over her wait 
ingmaids, she caused them to steal from her all her dresses, 
caps, and jewellery, on the very day that Charmant arrived. So, 
that when she wished to dress herself, she could not find a single 
riband, but had to remain in a scanty robe, which was also very 
coarse. She was so ashamed of her appearance, that she placed 
herself in a corner of the hall, when the king Charmant made 
his entrance. 

The queen received him with great display; she presented 
her daughter to him; the young king turned away his eyes, and 
asked if there were not another princess named Florine. “ Yes,” 
said Truitonne, pointing her out with her finger : “ see where 
she is hiding herself, she is so shabbily dressed.” But Florine 
blushed and looked so handsome, that Charmant was completely 
dazzled ; he recovered himself in a moment, and made a low 
bow to the princess: “ Madam,” said he to her, “ your match¬ 
less beauty already adorns you too much ; you need no foreign 
ornaments.”—“ My lord,” replied she, “ I declare to -you that I 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


267 


am unaccustomed to appear in a dress so unbecoming as this, 
and you will do me a pleasure by not looking at me.”—“ It 
would be impossible,” cried Charmant, “that so admirable a 
princess could be in any place, and I could have eyes for any 
save her.” After this time, he conversed with no one except 
Florine. 

The queen and Truitonne made the greatest complaints to 
the king, and obliged him to consent, that during the stay of 
King Charmant, they should shut up Florine in a turret. In¬ 
deed, as soon as she had returned to her apartment, four men, 
disguised in masks, carried her to the top of the tower. 

As Charmant was ignorant of the violence which the princess 
had met with, he waited with the utmost impatience until he 
should see her again. He attempted to speak of her to those 
whom the king had placed about him; but, by the orders of the 
queen, they told him that she was a coquette, that no reliance 
could be placed upon her word, that she had a very bad temper, 
that she was a torment to her friends and domestics, in short, 
that no one could be more sluttish than her, and that her avarice 
exceeded all bounds. At these stories, Charmant perceived the 
rising of an indignation he could scarce control. “No,” said 
he to himself: “ it is impossible that Heaven could have ever 
linked so deformed a soul to so beautiful a person.” 

While he was reasoning in this manner, a courtier, more 
adroit than the rest, for the purpose of discovering his true sen¬ 
timents, commenced telling him of the great excellences of the 
princess* Joy immediately diffused itself over his countenance 


268 


THE BLUE BIRD 


The poor princess, while all this was passing, was lying upon 
the bare floor, in the keep of this terrible tower, where the men 
in masks had carried her. “ I would have had less reason to 
complain,” cried she, “ if they had placed me in here before I 
had seen this lovely prince, the recollection of whom, serves only 
to increase my sufferings. Tt is, no doubt, to hinder me from 
seeing him more, that the queen treats me in so cruel a manner.” 

The queen, who wished to enlist Charmant by every testimony 
of attention she could show, sent to him dresses of unparalleled 
richness and magnificence, and the Order of the Knights of 
Love, which she had obliged the king to institute on the day of 
their marriage. She presented to him at the same time a book, 
the leaves of which were of vellum, adorned with admirable 
paintings, containing the rules of the Knights of Love written in 
a very tender and gallant style. The king was told that the 
princess requested him to be her knight, and had sent him this 
present. “ What, the beautiful princess Florine !” cried he 
“ My lord, you—you mistake us, we come in behalf of the #mi- 
able Truitonne.”—“ Is it Truitonne who wishes me for her 
knight ?” said the king, with a cold and serious air; “lam very 
sorry that I must refuse the honour.” He immediately replaced 
the book in the same basket, and sent the whole back to the 
queen, who, with her daughter, like to have been choked 
with rage. 

When the time came for again visiting the king and queen, he 
went to their apartment; he was in hopes that Florine would be 
there; he looked on all sides to see her. At last, he asked 


THE BLUE BIRD 


269 


where the princess Florine was. “ My lord/’ said the queen, 
fiercely to him, “ the king, her father, has forbidden her to go 
out until my daughter is married.”—“ And for what reason,” 
replied the king, “ do you keep this lovely person a prisoner ?” 
—“ I know not,” said the queen. The king felt an irrepressible 
anger; he gave a sidelong glance at Truitonne, and quickly 
quitted the room. 

Having returned to his chamber, he told a young prince, who 
had accompanied him to the court, and whom he dearly loved, 
that he would give all the world to gain over one of the atten¬ 
dants of the princess, that he might talk with her a moment. 
His friend found out one of the ladies of the palace, who promised 
him that same evening, Florine should be at a little low window 
which looked out upon the garden. 

The prince ran to tell the king of this appointment, but the 
faithless confidant failed not to inform the queen of her engage¬ 
ment, who determined to send her daughter in the place ol 
Florine to the window. 

The night was so dark, that it was impossible for the prince 
to detect the deceit that was played him ; he approached the 
window in a transport of unspeakable joy. He said every thing 
to Truitonne he intended for Florine, to persuade her of his 
love, and drawing a ring from his finger and placing it upon the 
hand of Truitonne, he added that it was an eternal pledge of his 
faith, and that he would be absent but for a short time to pre¬ 
pare for his departure. Truitonne replied as well as she could 
to his earnestness. He, indeed, perceived that she said nothing 


270 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


remarkable, and it would have given him pain, had ,he not been 
persuaded that the fear of being surprised by the queen, had re¬ 
pressed her freedom of thought. He only quitted her upon the 
express condition that she would be there the next evening at 
the same hour. 

The queen, having learned the happy issue of this interview, 
hoped every thing from it. The day was appointed, the king 
came to carry her off in a flying chariot, drawn by winged frogs, 
which an enchanter, one of his particular friends, had made him 
a present of. 

The night was very dark. Truitonne came out secretly, the 
king received her in his arms, and swore over and over again to 
her an everlasting fidelity; but as he was not in the mood to fly 
a great while in his winged chariot, before he had married his 
dear princess, he asked her where she wished the wedding to 
take place ; she told him that she had for a godmother a fairy, 
named Soussio, who was very celebrated, and that she wished to 
go to her castle; the king commanded his frogs to bear them 
thither, and in a very short time they arrived at the fairy’s. 

The castle was so lighted up, that in getting out from his 
chariot, the king must have perceived his mistake, if the princess 
had not carefully covered herself with her veil. She related to 
the fairy how she had ensnared Charmant, and begged her to 
appease him. “ Alas ! my daughter,” said the fairy, “ it will be 
very difficult, he is too deeply in love with Florine.” In the 
meantime the king was waiting for them in an apartment, whose 
walls, composed of diamonds, were so clear and brilliant, that he 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


271 


saw Soussio and Truitonne, talking together behind him. 
“What,” said he, “ am I betrayed ? What demons have brought 
here this enemy of our peace ?” They quickly entered the room, 
and Soussio said to him in an imperative tone : “ King Char- 
mant, this is the princess Truitonne, to whom you have pledged 
your faith ; she is my god-daughter, and I wish you to marry 
her immediately.”—“I,” exclaimed he: “I marry this little 
monster ! Restore to me my own princess.”—“ Am I not her, 
you perjured man?” said Truitonne, showing him his ring 
“ to whom, pray, did you give this ring as a pledge of your 
truth ?”—“ What, then,” replied he, “ have I been abused and 
deceived ? Let us be off—let us be off—my frogs, I will not 
stay a moment longer.”—“ Stop, it is not in your power,” said 
Soussio—she touched him, and his feet stuck to the floor, as if 
they had been nailed to it. “ Though you should turn me to stone,’ 
said the king to her, “ I will have no other bride than Florine.” 

He spent, in this condition, twenty days and twenty nights, 
during which time Soussio and Truitonne, never stopped talking, 
crying, and menacing. At last, Soussib said to the king: “ Choose 
whither you are willing to undergo seven years of penance, or 
marry my god-daughter.”—“ Do what you please with me,” cried 
the king, “ so long as I am free from this nasty wretch.”—“ Nasty 
wretch yourself!” screamed out Truitonne : “You are a pretty 
prince, with your flying equipage, to come to my country to 
insult me and break your promise.”—“Your reproaches touch 
me to the heart,” uttered the prince, in a sneering tone : “ I 
have done wrong, indeed, m refusing so beautiful a person for 


272 


THE BLUE BIRD 


my wife *”■—“ No, no,” cried Soussio, in a fit of anger, “ you have 
nothing to do but to fly out this window if you please. For 
seven years to come you shall be a blue bird.” 

In an instant, the king was changed into a bird, he gave a 
piercing shriek, and flew swiftly from the dreadful palace of 
Soussio. 

In the deepest melancholy, he wandered from branch to 
branch, selecting only those trees consecrated to love, or to sad¬ 
ness, one while upon the myrtle, one while upon the cypress 
ever singing mournful airs, in which he lamented the misfortunes 
of himself and Florine. 

On the other hand, the fairy Soussio carried back Truitonne 
to her mother. The queen being informed of all that had hap¬ 
pened, went up into the tower with her daughter, whom she had 
arrayed in the richest clothes ; she placed a diamond crown upon 
her head, and three daughters of the wealthiest nobles, held up 
the trail of her princely mantle ; on her finger, she wore the ring 
of King Charmant, which Florine had particularly noticed when 
they were talking together. She was very much surprised to 
see Truitonne so richly dressed. “ Here is my daughter with 
her wedding presents,” said the queen: “ King Charmant has 
married her.” Then they exhibited before the princess, stuffs of 
silver and gold, precious jewellery, laces, and ribands 

Florine, no longer doubting her misfortune, fainted awav 
The cruel queen, overjoyed at having succeeded so well, would 
permit no one to assist her, and left her alone m this most 
wretched condition. 


THE BLUE BIRD 


273 


All this while King Charmant, or to speak more properly, the 
beautiful blue bird, ceased not his rovings about the palace; he 
guessed that his dear princess was closely confined, and he ap¬ 
proached the windows as near as he could, that he might look 
into the rooms. There was opposite the window of Florine, a 
cypress of an immense height; the blue bird happened to light 
upon it. He had been there but a short time, when he heard a 
person lamenting. “ Must I suffer thus, still longer ?” said she. 
“ Is it not sufficient that I should witness the happiness that this 
unworthy daughter enjoys with King Charmant ? ” The blue 
bird listened, and the longer he listened, the more fully per¬ 
suaded he became, that the mourner was his amiable princess : 
he said to her: “ Adorable Florine, your evils are not beyond 
cure.”—“ Ah ! who speaks to me in so consoling a strain ?”■— 
“ An unfortunate king, who loves you, and never will love any 
but you.” As soon as he had said this, he flew to the window. 
Florine was in a great fright at so extraordinary a bird, who 
spoke with as much sense as a man ; but the beauty of his plu¬ 
mage, and the words that he uttered, reassured her. “ Am I again 
allowed to see you, my princess ?” exclaimed he : “ can I taste 
of a pleasure so great without dying of joy ?”—“ And who are 
you, charming bird ?” said the princess, caressing him. “ You 
have pronounced my name,” added the king, “ and you pretend 
not to know me —“ What! the greatest king in the world ! 
What! King Charmant!” said the princess : “ can he be the 
little bird I hold in my hand “ Alas ! beautiful Florine, it is 
too true, and if any thing can console me, it is that I have chosen 


THE BLUE BIRD 


'Z74 

to be reduced to this state for seven years, rather than give up 
my affection for you.”—“ For me ?” said Florine : “ Ah ! I know 
you have married Truitonne; I recognised your ring upon her 
Anger.”—“ Oh, heaven ! is it possible V 9 interrupted the king. 
“ know that, abusing your name, they induced me to carry away 
this ugly Truitonne; but as soon as I discovered my mistake, 1 
left her to take care of herself.” 

Daylight appeared, most of the servants had risen, while the 
princess and the blue bird were talking together; they parted, 
after having promised to spend every night in the same way. 

Their joy at having found each other was extreme, but in the 
meantime, Florine felt quite anxious for the blue bird. “ Who 
will protect him from the sportsmen,” said she, “ or the sharp 
claws of some hungry vulture V 9 

The charming bird, concealed in a crevice of the tree, had 
been all the day employed in thinking upon his beautiful princess ; 
as he wished to show Florine all the attentions which lay in his 
power, he flew to the capital of his kingdom, arrived at his 
palace, entered his cabinet through a broken pane, and took from 
thence a pair of diamond eardrops, which he carried in the even¬ 
ing to Florine, and entreated her to wear. 

“ I would willingly consent,” said she to him, “ if you would 
come to see me in the daytime, but since I can only converse 
with you at night, I will not put them on.” The bird promised 
her that he would come to the tower at any hour she wished, 
and immediately she put on the ear-rings. 

On the morrow, the blue bird returned to his kingdom, en 


THE BLUE BIRD 


275 


tered as before, and brought away with him the most splendid 
bracelets that ever were seen, and presented them to Florine. 

The following night, the enamoured bird failed not to bring to 
his mistress a watch, of a moderate size, set in a single pearl. 
* It is useless to treat me to a watch,” said she, gayly, “when 
you are away, the hours appear to me endless; when with me, 
they pass like a dream: thus, I can never give them their due 
measurement.” 

As soon as the day appeared, the bird flew into the bosom of 
his tree, whose fruits served him for food, and sometimes he sang 
such beautiful airs, that the passers by were delighted at his 
song. There never passed a day, without some present being 
made to Florine ; at last, she acquired an immense amount of 
the most wonderful and valuable articles. She never adorned 
herself, but at night, to please the king, and during the day, 
having no place to conceal them, she placed them carefully in 
the straw of her bedding. 

Two years elapsed, thus, without Florine’s having once com¬ 
plained of her captivity. 

In the meantime, the malicious queen made many useless 
efforts to marry Truitonne ; she sent ambassadors to propose her 
to every prince with whose name she was acquainted, who, as 
soon as they arrived, were dismissed rather abruptly. “ If it 
were respecting the princess Florine, you would be joyfully 
received,” they were told : “ but as for Truitonne, she might 
remain a virgin for all their opposition.”—“ What! in spite of 
her imprisonment,” cried the queen, “ does this arrogant still foil 


276 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


us ? She must have some secret correspondence with foreign 
countries; she is at least, a criminal of state, let us treat her 
upon this footing, and invent all possible means of convicting her.” 

They resolved to go up into the tower to question her; it was 
after midnight: Florine was with the blue bird, at the window, 
and dressed out in all her jewellery; her chamber and bed were 
strewed with flowers, and some partilles d’Espagne, which were 
burning, spread over the room a delicious odour. The queen 
stopped to listen at the door, she thought she heard an air sung 
by two persons, nor was she mistaken. 

“ Ah! my dear Truitonne, we are betrayed,” screamed out 
the queen, opening suddenly the door, and flinging herself into 
the chamber. What did Florine do at this juncture ? She threw 
up quickly her little window, to allow time for the royal bird to 
escape. The queen and her daughter approached her like a 
pair of furies, about to devour her. “We are acquainted, 
madam, with your intrigues against the state,” exclaimed the 
queen. “ And with whom ?” replied the princess : “ have you 
not been my jailer for the last two years ?” While she was 
speaking, the queen and Truitonne examined her with the 
greatest astonishment. “ And from whence, madam,” said the 
queen, “ did you obtain this jewellery ?”—“ I found it in this 
tower,” replied Florine. “We will not be your dupes,” said 
she : “ you have been given this jewellery, in the sole view of 
inducing you to sell the kingdom of your father.”—“ I should be 
in a pretty condition to deliver it,” replied Florine, with a con 
temptuous smile. “Why, then, are you turbaned as a little 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


277 


coquette, your chamber so filled with perfumes, and your 
person as magnificently attired as if you were dressed for atten¬ 
dance at court ?”—“ I have sufficient leisure for all this,” observed 
the princess. “ Come, come, we will see if this innocent princess 
has not made any treaty with our enemies.” She herself 
searched every where, and coming to the pallet, which she 
caused to be emptied, she discovered a great quantity of dia¬ 
monds, pearls, rubies, and topaz, which she could not account 
for. She had resolved to put in some place, papers that might 
destroy the princess ; at a time, when no one was noticing her, 
she concealed them in the chimney; but, by good luck, the blue 
bird was perched above, and cried out: “ Take care of yourself, 
Florine, observe your enemy, who wishes to make you suspected 
of treason.” This unexpected voice frightened the queen to such 
a degree, that she dared not do what she had intended. “ You 
see, madam, that the spirits who fly the air, are favourably dis¬ 
posed to me.”—“ I believe,” stammered the queen, embarrassed 
by her rage, “ that the devils concern themselves for you; but, 
in spite of these, your father shall do you justice.” 

The queen quitted her, and took counsel as to what should be 
done-with the princess. She was told that her most prudent plan 
would be to endeavour to discover her companion in intrigue ; 
the queen approved this thought; she sent to sleep in the cham¬ 
ber of the princess, a young girl, who pretended to be very inno¬ 
cent, and who had orders to say that she came to wait upon her. 
But the princess was not thus to be deceived; she looked upon 
her as a spy. 


278 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


She dared no more to appear at the window, although she 
knew the bird, so dear to her, was hovering about it. She passed a 
whole month without making her appearance ; the blue bird 
began to despair. 

Her spy, who watched day and night for the whole month, at 
last felt herself overcome with weariness, and fell into a deep 
slumber. Florine perceived it; she opened her little window 
and sang: “ Come blue bird, colour of the time, come quickly to 
me.” The bird understood her so well, that he came very 
quickly to the window. What was his joy to see her once more ? 
he renewed again, and again, his vows of affection, and promise? 
of fidelity. At last, the time for separating arrived; her jailoi 
had not awoken—they bade each other the tenderest adieus 
On the next night, the spy again fell asleep—the princess went 
as before to the window and sang, “ Come blue bird, colour of the 
time, come quickly to me.” Immediately the blue bird came, 
and this night passed as the previous one, without disturbance 
or discovery. The lovers flattered themselves that this spy 
took such pleasure in sleeping, that she would do so every night. 
In truth, the third passed equally well; but on the fourth, the 
sleeper hearing a noise, listened without appearing to do so, and 
saw by the light of the moon, the most beautiful bird in the 
world, talking to the princess, who caressed it with her hand, 
and affectionately kissed its little bill. In a word, she overheard 
the greatest part of their conversation. 

The day appeared, the princess threw herself upon her couch, 
and the king returned to the crevice of his tree. The iailer ran 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


279 


to the queen, she told her all she had seen and heard ; the queen 
sent for Truitonne, and she felt convinced that the blue bird was 
no other than King Charmant. “ What an insult,” cried the queen. 
“ I shall take such a bloody revenge, he shall speak out.” 

The queen sent back the spy into the turret; she gave her 
orders to appear more sleepy than usual; the poor princess, de 
ceived by this, opening the little window, cried out: “ Come, 
blue bird, colour of the time, come quickly to me.” But she 
called throughout the night without success; he did not appear, 
for the wicked queen had caused swords, cutlasses, razors, and 
daggers, to be fastened to the cypress, and when the prince be 
gan to fly, he was beaten down, these deadly weapons cut his 
feet, he fell upon others which cut his wings, and at last, wounded 
m every part of his body, he saved himself, with the greatest 
difficulty, in his own tree, leaving after him a long train of blood 

He would take no care of his life, persuaded that it was Flo 
rine who had played him this malicious trick. 

But his friend, the enchanter, who had seen the chariot with 
flying frogs return to him without their master, ran eight times 
over the whole earth to seek him, without being able to find him. 
He was making his ninth journey, when he passed through the 
wood where the prince was, and, according to the rules he had 
laid down, he sounded his trumpet for a considerable time, and 
then cried out five times with all his might: “ Oh, Charmant! 
King Charmant! where are you ?” The king recognised the 
voice of his best friend. “Approach,” said he to him, “ this tree, 
and see the wretched king you love, swimming m his blood.” 


280 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


The enchanter looked on all sides, without seeing any thing 
“ I am a blue bird,” said the king, in a weak and languishing 
voice : at these words, the enchanter found him, without difficulty, 
in his little nest. It cost him but a few words to stop the blood, 
which was still flowing, and he cured the king as perfectly as if 
he had never been wounded. 

He then begged him to tell him by what chance he had be¬ 
come a bird, and who had wounded him so cruelly; the king 
told him that it was Florine, who had revealed the secret visits 
of her mysterious lover, and that to make her peace with the 
queen, she had agreed to let the cypress be stuck over with 
knives and razors, by which he had been almost cut to pieces! 

You must, indeed, be unhappy,” said the enchanter to his 
friend, “ if you can still longer love this ungrateful wretch.” The 
blue bird would stay there no longer, but he still loved, too 
deeply, the beautiful Florine. 

He begged his friend to take him with him, and to put him in 
a cage, where he would be safe from the paws of the cat, and 
every kind of deadly weapon. 

Florine, the sad Florine, in despair at no longer seeing the 
king, passed whole days and nights at her window, repeating 
without cessation: “ Come, blue bird, colour of the time, come 
quickly to me.” The presence of her spy did not prevent her. 
Her despair at last became so great, she would take no sus 
tenance. 

The queen and Truitonne had their triumph; but the father 
of Florine, who had by this time become quite aged, died. The 


THE BLUE BIRD, 


•281 


fortune of this wicked queen and her daughter, changed its as¬ 
pect ; they were looked upon as favourites, who had abused then- 
influence ; the people, m an insurrection, ran to the palace, ask 
iag for the princess Florine, and acknowledging only her for 
iheir sovereign. 

The angry queen wished to treat the affair with severity, the 
sedition became general, her apartment was broken into and 
robbed, she herself was stoned to death, Truitonne fled to her 
godmother, the fairy Soussio. 

The grandees of the kingdom assembled quickly, and mounted 
the turret, where they found the princess very much indisposed, 
she knew nothing of the death of her father, and the punishment 
of her enemy, and when she heard the noise, she had no doubt 
they were coming to kill her ; but her subjects threw themselves 
at her feet, and told her of the change which had taken place in 
her favour. She was utterly unmoved, they carried her into the 
palace, and then crowned her. 

Determined to seek every where for the blue bird, she ap¬ 
pointed a council to take charge of her kingdom in her absence, 
and furnishing herself with a large quantity of precious stones, 
she departed one night entirely alone, no person knowing where 
she was going. 

The enchanter, who took care of the affairs of King Char- 
mant, not having sufficient power to destroy what Soussio had 
done, determined to go and find her, (they had been acquainted 
6ve or six years before,) and to propose some arrangement by 

which the king might be restored to his natural form. 

13 



THE BLUE BIRD. 


282 

The fairy received him very pleasantly. “ My business, com 
rade,” said the magician, “ relates to one of my most particular 
friends, a king whom you have made most unhappy.”—“Ha, 
ha,” cried Soussio : “ I understand you , but he has no favour to 
hope for, except he marries my god-daughter.” 

The enchanter first thought he would say no more, so ugly 
did he find Truitonne; but he could not resolve to go away 
without effecting something. At last, after much discussion, the 
enchanter concluded with his comrade, Soussio, that she should 
place Truitonne in the palace of the king, that she should 
remain there several months, during which, he might, perhaps, 
resolve upon marrying her, and that she should restore to him 
his natural figure, which he should lose to resume that of a bird, 
in case he refused to espouse Truitonne. 

The fairy and Truitonne betook themselves to the kingdom of 
Charmant, who had also reached it with his friend, the enchanter. 
With three strokes of a wand, he became as he was before ; but 
the thought alone of wedding Truitonne drove him frantic. 

In the meantime, the queen Florine, disguised under the dress 
of a country-girl, with her hair thick and matted, hanging over 
her face, a straw hat upon her head, and a linen bag across her 
shoulders, began her journey; one while she travelled on foot, 
at another, on horseback; one while by sea, and at another by 
land. She was always afraid to turn on one side, lest her be¬ 
loved king should be on the other. One day, having stopped 
beside a spring, she began washing her feet. At this moment, 
there came up a little old woman, almost bent double ; she stop- 


THE BLUfi BIRD. 


283 


ped and spoke to her : “ What are you doing here, my pretty girl, 
so entirely alone ?”—“ Good mother,” said the queen, “ I have 
much company, for I am waited upon by my mortification, dis¬ 
quietude, and anxiety.” At these words, her eyes flowed with tears. 

“ What, so young and so unfortunate ? ” said the good woman : 
“ Ah ! my daughter, do not afflict yourself: tell me sincerely the 
cause of your sorrows.” The queen related the story to her. 

The little old woman immediately straightened herself, her face 
changed all of a sudden, she became beautiful, young, and mag¬ 
nificently dressed; she looked at the queen with a kindly smile. 
“ Incomparable Florine,” said she to her: “ the king you are 
seeking after, is no longer a bird; my sister Soussio has restored 
him to his former figure, he is in his own kingdom. Grieve no 
longer, you shall reach it, and succeed in your design. Here 
are four eggs, you will break them at your most urgent need, 
and you will find the assistance you require.” Saying these 
words, she disappeared. 

Florine placed the eggs in her bag, and directed her steps to¬ 
wards the kingdom of Charmant. 

After having walked eight days and nights without stopping, 
she came to the foot of a very high mountain, entirely composed 
of ivory, and so steep that she could not put her feet upon it 
without falling. After a great many unsuccessful attempts, she 
laid her down, determined to die there; but on a sudden, she 
thought of the eggs which the fairy had given her. She took 
one of them out, and as soon as she had broken it, she found 
four small clasps of gold, which she put upon her feet and he? 


284 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


hands ; after she had done this, she ascended the ivory mountain 
without any trouble; when she had reached the top, she found 
a new difficulty in descending. All the valley was composed of 
a single plate of looking-glass; there stood surrounding it more 
than sixty thousand women, admiring themselves with the utmost 
pleasure, for each one saw herself in it, just such as she wished 
to be; this circumstance attracted scarcely fewer men, for the 
glass pleased them also. Nobody had ever ascended to the top 
of the mountain, and when they saw Florine there, the women 
uttered loud cries of despair. “ Where is this wretch a going ?” 
cried they : “ her next step will break our glass into pieces. 

The queen was at a loss, she broke another egg, upon which 
there appeared two pigeons, with a chariot, which became in an 
instant, sufficiently large for her to place herself easily in it; 
then the pigeons descended softly with the queen; she said to 
them: “ My little friends, if you will carry me as far as the court 
of King Charmant, you will oblige no ungrateful person.” The 
pigeons stopped neither day nor night, till they had carried her 
to the gates of the city. Florine got out, and gave to each of 
them a sweet kiss. 

How her heart beat on entering ! She stained her face so as 
not to be known; she asked of the passers by where she could 
see the king. Some of them began to laugh aloud. “ See the 
king ?” said they: “ ha ! what have you to do with him, my dear 
sloven ? Get away, get away ! and wash your face, you have 
not eyes good enough to see so fine a king.” The queen made 
no reply; she asked of others where she should go to see the 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


285 


king. “ He is coming to-morrow to the temple, with the princess 
Truitonne, for at last he has agreed to marry her.” 

“ Heavens ! what news ! Truitonne, the unworthy Truitonne, 
upon the point of marrying the king Florine thought she 
should have died. 

The queen sought out a lodging, and went to rest; she rose 
at daybreak, and ran to the temple. She gained an entrance, 
but not without a thousand rebuffs from the guards. The king 
came first, then Truitonne appeared, splendidly dressed, and so 
ugly that she frightened her. “ Who are you,” said she to 
Florine, “ who have dared to approach my beautiful figure, and 
so near my golden throne ?”—“ I am called Mic Souillon,” replied 
she, “ and I have come a great way to sell you some rarities.” 
She felt in her linen bag, and drew out the pair of emerald 
bracelets which the King Charmant had given her. “ Ho, ho,” 
said Truitonne, “what beautiful jewels; will you take for them 
a five-shilling piece ?”—“ Show them, madam, to those who 
know their value,” said the queen, “ and then we will make our 
bargain.” 

Truitonne advanced to the throne, and showed the bracelets 
to the king. At the sight of them he recollected those he had 
given to Florine, and it was a long time before he could make 
any answer; at last he replied : “ These bracelets are worth all 
my kingdom; I thought there was but one pair in the world, but 
I have seen their fellows.” 

Truitonne placed herself upon her throne, looking dastardly 
ugly. She asked the queen how much money, without beating 


286 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


down, she would take for these bracelets. You could scarcely 
pay me for them thus,” said she : “ I will propose to you another 
bargain; if you will enable me to sleep for one night in the 
chamber of echoes, in the palace of the king, I will give you 
the emeralds.”—“ I will, Mic Souillon,” said Truitonne, laughing 
to desperation, and showing her teeth, which were longer than 
the tusks of a wild boar. 

It is proper here to mention, while the king was a blue bird, 
he had informed the princess, that he had under his apartment, 
a closet, which he called his “ chamber of echoes,” so ingeni¬ 
ously contrived, that every thing that was said, in however low a 
tone, could be heard by the king while he lay in his chamber; 
and as Florine wished to reproach him with his breach of faith, 
she could think of no better means of doing it. 

She was placed in this chamber by the directions of Trui¬ 
tonne ; she commenced her complaints and lamentations, and 
continued them until day. The attendants had heard her all the 
night, groaning and sighing. They told it to Truitonne ; as for 
the king, he had not heard her. Ever since he had been in love 
with Florine, he was unable to rest, and on his retiring to bed, 
to get a little sleep, he was accustomed to take opium. 

The queen spent the greater part of the day in the utmost 
uneasiness. “ If he heard me,” said she, “ could he show such 
a cruel indifference ? If he did not hear me, what shall I do to 
make him listen to me ?” She had no more extraordinary rari¬ 
ties, but she must do something to excite the desires of Trui¬ 
tonne ; she had recourse to her eggs. She broke another, then 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


287 


there appeared a small carriage of polished steel, inlaid with 
gold, drawn by six green mice, driven by a rat of a rose colour, 
and a postillion, who was of the same species, but of a dark 
gray ; there was also in the carriage, four puppets, who performed 
the most surprising feats of activity. 

The queen was overjoyed at this new exhibition of magical 
art; she said nothing until evening, which was the time Trm- 
tonne was accustomed to take her promenade ; then she placed 
it in the walk, setting her mice upon a gallop, who drew along 
the rats and the puppets ; this novelty very much astonished 
Truitonne, who cried out to her two or three times: “ Mic 
Souillon, Mic Souillon, will you take a five shilling-piece foi 
your carriage and mice?”—“To sleep in the cabinet of echoes 
is all I ask.”—“ I agree to it, poor wretch,” said Truitonne 

When night came, Florine said every thing she could to move 
the king, but all in vain, for the king did not fail to take his 
usual dose of opium. She had but one egg left in her bag, from 
which she could expect assistance ; she broke it, and there came 
out a pastry of six birds, which were basted, cooked, and nicely 
seasoned : yet, notwithstanding this, they sang marvellously well, 
told fortunes, and knew more of medicine than Esculapius him¬ 
self ; the queen entered with her speaking pastry, the antic! am¬ 
ber of Truitonne. As she was waiting to pass in, one of the 
king’s valets de chambre approached her, and said: “ My Mic 
Souillon, you know very well that if the king did not take opium 
to make him sleep, you would most assuredly disturb him, for 
you keep talking the whole night incessantly.” Florine felt in 


288 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


her bag, and said to him: “ I am so little afraid of disturbing the 
sleep of the king, that if you will not give him the opium this 
evening, in case I sleep in the same chamber, all these pearls 
and diamonds are yours.” The valet agreed to it, and gave her 
his word. 

A few moments after, Truitonne came out; she saw the queen 
with her pastry, who pretended she was going to eat it. “ What 
are you doing there, Mic Souillon,” said she to her. “ Madam,” 
replied Florine, “ I am eating astrologers, musicians, and doctors.” 

At this moment, all the birds began to sing more sweetly than 
sirens; then they cried out “ Give us a shilling, and we will 
tell you your fortune.” A duck, who seemed to be master, cried 
louder than the others : “ Quack, quack, quack, I am a doctor, I 
can cure every sort of ache, and every kind of madness, except 
that of love.” Truitonne, surprised at so many wonders : “ In 
truth, this is an excellent pie, I must have it; come, come, Mic 
Souillon, what will you take for it.”—“ The usual price,” said 
she, “ to sleep in the chamber of echoes, and nothing more ” 
You may guess if the queen agreed to it. 

As soon as night appeared, Florine was led into the chamber 
of echoes. When she believed every body was asleep, she 
began her usual complaints. 

The king, unable to rest, heard distinctly the voice of Florine, 
and all her words, but he could not guess from whence they 
came ; yet his heart, softened with tenderness, recalled so vividly 
the idea of his incomparable princess, that he began to speak 
aloud, as if the queen had been present. “ Ah ! princess,” said 


THE BLUE BIRD. 


289 


he, “ too cruel to a lover who adores you ; is it possible that you 
could sacrifice me to our common enemies ?” Florine failed not 
to reply to him, and to tell him, that if he asked for Mic Souillon 
all should be explained; the king, in the utmost impatience, 
called one of his valets, and asked him if he could find Mic Souil¬ 
lon, and bring her to him. He replied, that “nothing was more 
easy, as she was sleeping in the chamber of echoes.” 

The king went down by a secret pair of stairs into the cham¬ 
ber of echoes, of which the queen kept the key, but he had one 
which opened all the .doors of the palace. 

There he found her, dressed in a light robe of white muslin, 
which she wore under her common dress ; she was lying down 
upon a bed, a lamp at a little distance gave but a gloomy light; 
the king entered all of a sudden, his love prevailed over his re¬ 
sentment, and as soon as he recognised her, he cast himself at 
her feet. 

The queen could scarcely breathe; she looked fixedly at the 
king without saying any thing, and when she was able to speak, 
she made him reproaches. At last, they came to an explanation; 
they cleared themselves to each other, and all that troubled them 
was the fairy Soussio. 

But at this moment, the enchanter, the friend of the king, 
arrived with a celebrated fairy, the very same who had given the 
four eggs to Florine; they declared that their power was unlimited 
in favour of the king and queen, that the fairy could do nothing 
against them, and that their marriage should not be delayed. 

It is easy to figure the happiness of the lovers; there was a 
13 * 


290 


THE BLUE BIRD 


great deal of rejoicing when the news was published through 
the palace, and every one was delighted to see Florine. Trui 
tonne heard of it; she ran to the king: what was her surprise 
to find with him her beautiful rival. While she was opening 
her mouth to upbraid him with her injuries, the enchanter and 
fairy appeared, who changed her into a sow. She fled from 
them, grunting all the way to the basement. King Charmant 
and Queen Florine, delivered from a person so hateful thought 
of nothing but the celebration of their marriage, which a few 
days afterward took place, with great splendour and rejoicing. 




ROSIMOND AND BRAMINTE 

here was once a young man, as beautiful as 
the day, called Rosimond, and who was as 
much distinguished for talent and goodness, 
as his elder brother, Braminte, was for defor¬ 
mity, ill manners, and brutality Their mother, 
who had a horror for her elder son, had eyes only for the younger. 
The former, through jealousy, invented a dreadful calumny that 
he might destroy his brother. He told his father that Rosimond 
frequented the house of a neighbour, with whom he was at vari¬ 
ance ; informed him of all that passed at home, and sought for 

29! 














292 RGSIMOND AND BRAMINTE 

means to poison him. The father, deeply incensed, cruelly beat 
his son, covering him with blood; then kept him three days 
confined without food; and, finally, drove him away from the 
house, threatening to kill him if he ever returned. The mother, 
overcome with fear, durst say nothing, she could but sigh. 
The youth departed in tears; and not knowing whither to go, 
found himself at evening straying through a vast forest. Night 
overtook him at the foot of a rock; he entered a cave, covered 
with a carpet of moss, through which ran a clear stream, and 
there, through very weariness, fell asleep 

Awaking at daybreak, he saw a beautiful woman, mounted 
upon a gray horse with trappings of gold, who appeared to be 
going to the chase. 

“ Have vou seen a stag, pursued by hounds, passing this way ?” 
said she to him. He replied, “ he had not.” Then she observed: 
“You seem to be in affliction; what is the matter with you? 
Stop, here is a ring which will render you the most happy and 
powerful of men, provided you never abuse it. When you turn 
the diamond within, you will be invisible ; when without, you 
will be again visible; when you put the ring upon your little 
finger, you will appear like the son of a king, attended by a mag¬ 
nificent court; when you place it upon your fourth finger you 
will appear in your natural form.” So the young man discovered 
that he had been conversing with a fairy. 

After these words, she buried herself in the wood, while the 
young man immediately returned to the house of his father, burn¬ 
ing with impatience to make trial of his ring. He saw and heard 


R0S1M0ND AND BRAMINTE. 293 

every thing he pleased without being discovered. Nothing pre¬ 
vented his avenging himself of his brother, without exposing him¬ 
self to the slightest danger. He disclosed himself only to his 
mother, embraced her, and told her the whole of his wonderful 
adventure 

Immediately after, putting his enchanted ring upon his little 
finger, he appeared on a sudden as a prince, with a hundred 
beautiful horses, and a great number of officers richly appar¬ 
elled. 

His father was very much astonished to see the son of a king 
m his humble house ; and was greatly embarrassed, not knowing 
what attentions he ought to pay him. 

Then Rosimond asked him how many sons he had. “ Two,” 
leplied the father. “I wish to see them; send them here im¬ 
mediately,” said Rosimond to him; “I wish to take them both 
to court with me, and to make their fortunes.” 

The father alarmed, replied with hesitation: “ Here is the 
elder, whom I present you.”—“ Where is the younger ? I wish 
to see him also,” said Rosimond again. “ He is not here,” said 
the father ; “ I chastised him for a fault, and he has left me.” 

Then Rosimond said * “ He should have been corrected, but 
not have been driven away. But give me the elder for my 
attendant; and as for you,” addressing his father, “ follow 
those two guards, who will conduct you to a place I shall point 
out.” 

Immediately the two guards took away his father, and the fairy 
of whom we have before spoken, having met him in the forest. 




294 


ROSIMOND AND BRAMINTE. 


struck him with a golden wand, and placed him in a dark and 
deep cavern, where he remained enchanted. “ Stay there,” said 
she, w until your son comes to liberate you.” 

During, this while, the son went to the court of the king, at a 
time when the young prince had embarked on a warlike expe¬ 
dition against a remote island; he had been driven by the winds 
upon an unknown coast, where, after being wrecked, he had been 
made captive by a barbarous people. 

Rosimond appeared at court as if he had been the prince, 
whom they believed lost. He said that he had returned through 
the aid of certain merchants, without whose assistance he must 
have perished. 

The king appeared so transported that he could not speak, 
and tenderly embraced his son, whom he believed to have been 
lost. 

The queen was still more affected; the greatest rejoicings were 
made throughout the whole kingdom. 

One day, the pretended prince said to his brother. “ Braminte, 
you know that I have taken you from your native place to 
advance your fortune ; but I know you to be false-hearted, and 
that you have, by your deceptions, caused the misery of your 
brother Rosimond; he is here concealed ; I wish you to speak 
t.o him, even though he should reproach you with your wicked¬ 
ness.” 

Braminte, trembling, threw himself at his feet, and acknow¬ 
ledged his fault. “ It is of no consequence,” said Rosimond ; “ I 
wish you to speak to your brother, and entreat his pardon. He 


♦ 


ROS1MOND AND BRAMINTE. 


295 


will be generous, indeed, if he grant it, for you have not deserved 
it: he is in my cabinet, where you will see him immediately 
In the meantime, I shall retire to another apartment, that you 
may be alone with him.” 

Braminte entered as he was commanded into the cabinet. 
Immediately, Rosimond turned his ring, passed through the 
chamber, and then entered through a door from behind, in his 
natural figure, where Braminte was very much ashamed to see 
him: he asked his pardon, and promised to repair all the wrongs 
he had done him. 

Rosimond embraced him, sebbing loudly, pardoned him, and 
said : “ I am in great favour with the prince; nothing hinders 
my destroying you, or at least of keeping you all your life con¬ 
fined in prison; but no; I will be as kind to you as you have 
been cruel to me.” 

Braminte cast down, and confounded, replied to him with 
submission, not daring to raise his eyes, or mention the name of 
his brother. 

After this, Rosimond pretended to travel in disguise, 
for the purpose of espousing the princess of an adjoining 
kingdom ; but, under this pretext, really to see his mother, to 
whom he related all that had happened to him at court, at the 
same time, giving her in her need the assistance of a small sum 
of money. For the king would have let him take whatever he 
wanted, but he never required much. In the meantime, a furious 
war broke out between the king and a neighbouring monarch, 
who was both unjust and treacherous. Rosimond went to the 


296 


ROSIMOND AND BRAMINTE. 


court of the hostile prince, entered by the assistance of his ring 
into-the most secret councils of his enemy, all the time remain¬ 
ing himself invisible. He profited by the knowledge he gained 
of the measures of his adversaries; he anticipated and entirely 
disconcerted them: he led an army against them; he entirely 
defeated them in a great battle, and soon concluded with them a 
glorious peace on the most equitable conditions. The king 
thought only of marrying him to a princess, the heiress of 
-.an adjoining kingdom, and more beautiful than the graces. 
But one day, while Rosimond was hunting in the same forest 
where he had before met the fairy, she presented herself before 
him 

“Take care,” said she to him in a severe voice, “of marrying 
as if you were really a prince. You must deceive no one. Il 
is right that the prince, for whom you pass, should return to suc¬ 
ceed his father. Go seek him in the island, whither the winds 
which I send to fill the sails of your vessel will carry you with¬ 
out difficulty : hasten to render this service to your master, in¬ 
stead of consulting how to flatter your ambition : make up your 
mind to return a virtuous man to your original state. If you do 
not do so, you will be unjust and unhappy. I will abandon you 
to your old afflictions.” 

Rosimond, profited without hesitation by advice so prudent. 
Under pretence of a secret negotiation with a neighbouring state, 
he embarked in a vessel, and the winds immediately carried him 
to the island where the fairy had told him the real son of the 
king might be found. The prince was a captive among a savage 



ROSIMOND AND BRAMINTE. 


297 


people, and had been compelled to tend their flocks. Rosimond 
making himself invisible, went to the field whither he had led 
his sheep, and covering him with his own mantle, which was in¬ 
visible like himself, delivered him from the hands of these cruel 
people. 

They embarked together. Other winds, obedient to the fairy, 
quickly wafted them back. They went together to the apartment 
of the king: Rosimond presented himself to him, and said: 
“ You believed me your son; I am not: but I restore him to 
you; keep him; there he is himself.” 

The king, very much astonished, addressed his son, and said 
“ Was it not you, my son, who vanquished my enemies and con 
eluded a glorious peace ? or is it indeed true that you have suf¬ 
fered shipwreck ? that you have been taken captive, and that 
Rosimond has delivered you?”—“Yes, my father,leplied he, 
“ he it is who came to the country where I was a captive; he it 
is who has released me; to him I owe my liberty and the pleas¬ 
ure of seeing you again; to him, and not to me, do you owe the 
victory.” 

The king could not believe the story. But Rosimond changed 
his ring, and appeared to the king under the figure of the prince; 
and the monarch astonished, saw at the same moment two men 
who appeared each to be his son. Then he offered for so many 
services, immense sums to Rosimond, who refused them. He 
asked alone from the king, the favour of continuing his brother 
Braminte in the office which he held at court. As for himself, 
he feared the inconstancy of fortune, the envy of men, and his 


298 


ROSIMOND AND BRAMINTE. 


own weakness. He wished to go back to his native village to 
his mother, and the cultivation of the earth. The fairy, who 
again met him in the woods, pointed out to him the cavern where 
his father was confined, and repeated to him the words which he 
was to pronounce to effect his deliverance. These words he 
uttered with a very sensible joy. He thus delivered his father, 
who had for a long time impatiently awaited the event, and gave 
him the means of passing happily his old age. Rosimond be¬ 
came thus the benefactor of his whole family, and had the pleas¬ 
ure of doing good to those who had sought his misery. After 
having done the noblest actions for the court, he only desired to 
live afar from its corruptions. To complete his prudence, he 
feared lest his ring should tempt him to leave his solitude and 
again involve him in important affairs ; he returned to the forest 
where the fairy had so kindly appeared to him; he went often 
to the cave where he had the happiness before to see her, and 
was still in hopes of again meeting her. At last, she again ap¬ 
peared to him, and he returned to her her enchanted ring. 

“ I return you,” said he, “ this gift so valuable, but so danger¬ 
ous, and which it is so easy to misuse. I can never believe my¬ 
self in safety, so long as I can leave my solitude and possess so 
many means of gratifying all my passions.” 

While Rosimond was surrendering the ring, Braminte, whose 
natural depravity ha 1 never been corrected, had abandoned him¬ 
self to all his desires, and even wished to induce the young 
prince, since become king, to treat Rosimond in an unbecoming 


manner. 


ROSIMOND AND BRAMINTE. 299 

The fairy said to Rosimond: “Your brother, always false, 
wishes to render you an object of suspicion to the young king, 
and by this means destroy you. He deserves to be punished; 
he must die. I shall go and present him this ring which you 
have given up.” 

Rosimond lamented the misfortune of his brother, then said 
to the fairy: “ How can you pretend to punish him by making 
him so wonderful a present ? he will abuse it by the persecution 
of all respectable people, and by possessing a power beyond all 
bounds.”—“ The same things,” replied the fairy, “ are salutary 
remedies to some, but deadly poisons to others. Prosperity is 
the source of all evils to the wicked: there is nothing more re¬ 
quired to hasten their destruction, but to entrust them with great 
power.” 

She went to the palace, appeared to Braminte under the form 
of an old woman covered with rags, and thus addressed him 
“ I have taken back from the hand of your brother the ring that 
I gave him, and with which he has acquired such glory ; receive 
it from me, and take care to what use you apply it.” 

Braminte replied, with a laugh : “ I shall act wiser than my 
brother, who was stupid enough to seek out the prince instead 
of reigning in his place.” 

Braminte, possessed of the ring, thought only of finding out 
the secrets of families, of treasonable conspiracies, of murders 
and other enormities, of overhearing the councils of the king, 
and of stealing the wealth of individuals. His invisible crimes 
astonished every body : the king finding so many of his secrets 


300 


ROSIMOND AND BRAMINTE. 


divulged, knew not to what to impute it; but the unlimited pros-; 
perity and insolence of Braminte, caused him to be suspected of 
possessing the enchanted ring of his brother. To detect him, 
the king employed a stranger of a nation with whom he was 
at war, to whom he entrusted a large sum. This man went 
one night to offer to Braminte, on the part of the hostile king, 
immense wealth and honours, if he would acquaint him with 
(by means of his spies) all that he learned of the secrets of the 
king. 

Braminte promised every thing, and even went to a certain 
place where he received a very large sum, as an earnest of his 
future reward : he boasted of having a ring that made him 
invisible. On the morrow,'the king caused search to be made 
for him, and he was seized ; his ring was taken away, and upon 
his person were found many papers conclusive of his guilt. 
Rosimond revisited the court to ask the pardon of his brother, 
which was denied. Braminte was executed, and the ring ap¬ 
peared still more unfortunate to him, as it had been useless to 
his brother. 

The king, to console Rosimond for the punishment of Bra¬ 
minte, restored him the ring, as a treasure of infinite value 

Rosimond, in his affliction, thought so no longer. He returned 
to seek the fairy in the wood: “ Keep,” said he, “ your ring : 
the experience of my brother has taught me that I did not be¬ 
fore well understand the force of your remarks : keep this fatal 
instrument of the destruction of my brother. Alas ! he would 
have been still living; he would not have loaded with grief and 


ROSIMONB AND BRAMINTE. 301 

shame the declining years of my father and mother; he might, 
perhaps, have been prudent and happy, if he had never possessed 
the means of gratifying his desires. Oh! how dangerous to 
possess more power than others. Take back your ring; a curse 
to those on whom you bestow it! The only favour I have fcc 
ask is, never to give it to any in whom 1 am interested. 














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